Spring Break
by Llmav
Summary: 10 days.
1. Prologue - Friday & Farewell

**A/N; So this one is a little different. A little slower. Lots of details and clues. There will be 10 chapters in total. The chapters will vary a lot in length. This first one is on the short side. Updates will be frequent. **

**This story is rated M, but there is less smut and more story in comparison to all the other things I have written. Still some smut, though. Just not on every single page. I'm a little smutted out at the moment. **

**Let me know if you love it or hate it. Constructive feedback is always welcome and appreciated. **

**Prologue - Friday & Farewells **

_Late_ _Friday_ _Afternoon _

She lazily observed the departing vehicles from the hallway window upstairs. The traffic had been substantially intensified for the last few hours, the consistent sound of the slamming trunks no longer an annoyance but a background noise that she had quickly grown accustomed to.

Something was in the air, a vibe of expectancy and carelessness that was almost tangible, almost as if a huge sigh of relief had escachains chains after months of confinement, and was now bouncing off of the buildings throughout campus in a joyful celebratory dance.

_Spring_ _break_.

The majority of the student population were now well on their way to the sunny beaches of Miami, or any of the other nearby party spots just a few hours of a car ride away.

Bikinis. Shots. Making out under the stars.

She hated the beach.

Didn't do bikinis. Didn't do shots. _Definitely_ didn't make out under the stars.

If she, for some unknown reason, would get the, highly unlikely, craving for the beach, there was one outside of her window, well within walking distance.

They were in Florida, after all. It was a beautiful campus, water view included, and, seeing as it was situated in the Sunshine state, they were blessed with more days of splendid weather than anyone could ever ask for.

The parking lot outside was approaching empty, she could spot her own car and only a handful of others, most likely belonging to students who had chosen other methods of departure transportation.

There was a small group still lingering right outside the dorm entrance, the sounds of the low murmur of their voices as well as the occasional laugh traveling to her ears through the cracked open glass. One laugh stood out to her. It seemed carefree, happy, and almost contagious. If she had had the capability to be carefree and happy, she might have caught it.

She observed him from her window view, the owner and originator of the sound that she could reluctantly only label as pleasant, soon realizing that she recognized him.

He was on one of the sports teams.

Baseball? Nope. Soccer? Nah. Basketball? That was it.

She had watched him play once, when she had been unwillingly dragged to the gym to attend one of the games. She didn't know much about sports, but even she, with her two left feet, had been able to tell that he was a talented athlete.

He was hard to miss. Not in a bad way. Actually, in a great way. He had a positive aura around him that would, she could only assume, draw _most_ people in.

She guessed he was dating that skinny girl, the pretty one, the one looking like she belonged in the doll section at the toy store, inducing so by the way his muscular arm was now casually slung around her narrow shoulder.

She couldn't be sure, though. It was more difficult to keep up with the ever-changing love pairings of the rather small student body than all the daytime soap operas combined.

_She_ didn't do dating, nowadays merely a bystander in the game of love that she had once believed she was a strong contender in.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from him, as she found herself wondering what he smelt like.

What the heck? Where did that come from?

He was handsome, no doubt, but with a little roughness around the edges, not necessarily a Ken to the blonde's Barbie, a much more sexual version of a man than the emasculated plastic impersonation of what the male species, according to the toy manufacturer, should aspire to be.

Yes, she could still see it. Even though she was no longer having sex, with anyone, not even herself, she wasn't blind.

He had enough sex appeal to share with his whole starting team, and there would still be plenty left over to pass around among the benchwarmers.

And maybe even the coach.

She turned and walked away as the small group began loading up the soon departing car to the brim.

She entered her room. They had done the best they could with the place, which in all honesty wasn't much. It was a dorm room with limited space, two girls with an unhealthy shoe obsession and enough clothing to dress a small village.

It was a barely contained mess. She didn't mind. It was a fitting metaphor for, well, _her_.

She enjoyed the relatively small, private college. It was a stark contrast to the huge university she transferred from just a few months ago. Her decision to transfer out halfway through her junior year had been highly questioned. It didn't make sense to most people. She didn't care. It made a lot of sense to her. She had her reasons.

The animal print bed sheets on the opposing twin bed were a sour sight to say the least. She quickly contemplated changing them for the week before her roommate returned.

Trish and her had become fast friends. It had taken her by surprise. In many ways, _most_ ways, they were complete opposites, yet got along splendidly. She loved her. Animal print obsession and all. Loved her like the sister that she _did_ have. Blood wasn't always thicker than water.

Trish had begged her, bribed her, soon resorting to have threatened her, to join her, her boyfriend and a few other of her friends on their beach getaway. She had declined, vehemently, non-budgingly, until the very headstrong Latina had had to, for once, declare defeat.

She had thanked her lucky star that the dorm remained open for the break. Going _home_ was _not_ an option.

She wasn't quite sure what she would be doing for 10 days by herself. She had never been alone for that long before. She kept telling herself that she was going tohave fun, be productive, work on her poetry and her music and her novel...

She enjoyed her own company. Or at least, she had used to. Nowadays, she wasn't quite sure.

She flipped through the channels on the too small, second-hand TV, sighing as none of the various channels managed to catch her interest.

She turned it off, hoping to find some inspiration to write but coming up short-handed.

Bored, she tried to doze off, the quietness of the building ringing louder than a rock concert in her lonely ears. She hated it, more than she had predicted that she would, because in the noiselessness she could hear her own thoughts.

She cringed, futilely trying to push the unpleasant memories away, knowing it was a losing battle as the more she tried to forget, the more she remembered.

Hours later, after obsessive over-analyzing, she finally fell asleep, and as she had been too lazy to wash off her make-up, the tears traveling down her face in anger and sadness created black mascara rivers on her pretty face, ending their journey in a dirty pool on her pillow.

...

After waving goodbye to his friends, he reentered the dorm through the big glass doors in the lobby, a skip innbus step, casually smiling at the security officer on duty whom he knew by name, soon making his way back to the third floor, throwing himself down on the narrow bed in the sparsely decorated room.

He flipped through the channels on the too small, second-hand TV, sighing as none of the various channels managed to catch his interest.

He turned it off, hoping to find some inspiration to write but coming up short-handed.

Bored, he drifted off to sleep, unknowingly becoming the first of eventually only two students to snore away the night in the otherwise close to abandoned brick building.


	2. Chapter 1 - Saturday & Sunshine

**A/N; So this one is on the longer side.**

**Chapter 1 - Saturday & Sunshine **

She awoke in the morning, still tired due to the too few hours of sleep,the sun peeking through the cracks in the half-broken blinds and relentlessly teasing her face, a natural alarm clock that she had been treated to daily over the past few months and quickly gotten used to.

She was rubbing her eyes, until she realized that her hands were turning black. Right, she still had make-up on. Awesome. One of many things that seemed like a good idea late at night, but causing regret, never-failingly, in the non-forgiving, morning light.

She dragged herself out of bed, her head pounding as if she had had a few drinks too many. Had it not been for the fact that she was hungry, starving, she probably would have stayed in bed. It wasn't as if she had a whole lot of other things to do.

She pulled up the blinds. She was on the second floor, her dorm room window facing the nearby ocean and providing her with one of the prettiest scenes she had ever been fortunate enough to experience. On a good, clear day, she had the view of the blue ocean stretching into eternity. It made her feel insignificant, her problems seem insignificant, and she loved it.

She would be lying if she said that she didn't enjoy the freedom of walking around in her teeny tiny sleep shorts and slightly see through tank top in the abandoned hallway. Other girls did it all the time, not caring the least who could see, but she was too self-conscious.

The dorm was co-Ed, genders alternating by story, and there we often overnight guests walking around on the floor. Male overnight guests.

Today, not so much. She wondered if her voice would echo in the emptiness if she was to sing out loud, but her throat was hurting from crying and she was in no mood to sing. One of these days, she was going to try it, though.

The cafeteria would be closed for the whole break, and she wasn't overly upset about it. She could use a break from the diet of untasty burgers and soggy French fries.

She had loaded up on groceries, keeping them in the joint pantry in the small floor kitchen area to reduce the clutter of her room, and since nobody else was there, she wasn't worried about anyone stealing her food.

...

He awoke in the morning, still tired despite the too many hours of sleep. He dragged himself out of bed. Had it not been for the fact that he was hungry, starving, he probably would have stayed in bed. It wasn't as if he had a whole lot of other things to do.

His stomach was growling. Shit, the cafeteria was closed. He hadn't really done much grocery shopping and he was too hungry to make the drive now.

He was munching on some left over...in all honesty, he wasn't sure what it was. Not a great sign.

He smiled as he quickly came up with a plan B. The girls' floor downstairs. Genius. No one would be there. He had had a few _friends_ during freshman year at that floor. There were always left overs in the pantry there, in difference from the counterpart on his. Guys were pigs, hungry pigs.

His wing had never been this quiet before. There were usually someone yelling loudly while playing video games, or singing along to the too loud music, or arguing with their girlfriends. Had it been a regular Saturday morning, he would have probably run into people just coming home from their late night adventures. Heck, he might have just been getting home. Instead, he had spent his first night of spring break going to sleep early. Oh, how things could change in a year.

He kind of liked the quietness. It allowed him to think. And thinking was all this week was about.

...

He saw her before she noticed him, her back towards him, her tiny arms resting on the small kitchen counter. Her long brown hair was covering her shoulder blades, the waves almost grazing her petite waist and the elastic of the teeny tiny sleep shorts her ass was covered by.

He was surprised to see her. To see anyone. He had thought he was the only one who had made the by many questionable decision to stay in the dorms over the break. He was kind of happy he had thought wrong.

She seemed preoccupied as she was writing something, scribbling away in some old notebook, swaying her body a little back and forth while doing so, engrossed in what he could only assume to be some sort of creative masterpiece.

He hadn't even seen her face to face and he was already intrigued.

She was munching on something, absentmindedly, her back still to him. What the fuck was she eating? Something from a jar. A glass jar. Pickles? How was that even possible? Who ate those green disgusting things for breakfast? Or for any other meal, for that matter? He, and every other sane person in the universe, viewed them as a nuisance, something one was forced to remove from the otherwise delicious burger from the nearby fast-food restaurant. He guessed she was the exception to that rule. That, or she simply wasn't sane.

He prayed that she had something else to eat stashed away in the cabinets. Anything else would do.

How long could he spy on her before it was to be considered inappropriate? He decided that he was probably already a few minutes passed that point, but he didn't care. He liked the view.

He suddenly recalled that he wasn't wearing a shirt, for absolutely no other reason than being overdue for laundry and he was too uninspired to complete such a hauntingly excruciating task during the first day of the long-awaited break. In all fairness, he had thought the building was empty.

She literally jumped when he cleared his throat a few minutes later, voluntarily ending his peeping session as he was scared that his growling stomach would give him away otherwise.

She turned around with a terrified expression on her face, as if, despite the bright sunshine lighting up the entire building, he had attacked her in a dark alley. She looked as if she had expected a ghost. And the expression on her face told him that he might as well could have been one.

"Hello".

She didn't answer, still in shock.

He tried to place her, quickly assessing if he had seen her somewhere before, but couldn't place her face.

"I don't think I know you, are you new or something?"

The fearfulness on her face gradually transformed into barely concealed disgust.

"I met you during freshman orientation, we have had several classes together and you kissed me, scratch that, we made out at that big party last year. Can't believe you don't even remember me..."

He blanked, not knowing what to say, second-guessing his gut feeling that he had never interacted with her before. Weird, because he knew, just knew, that if he had, he would recognize her. She had a face to remember. And making out with her would definitely be something worthy to memorize. He was pretty sure it would have been one of his favorite memories. Of all time.

So strange.

She laughed at his face of confusion, deciding to put him out of his misery even though she enjoyed it a little too much. Her laughter sounded rusty, almost as if she hadn't done it for a long time, or maybe wasn't used to doing it, and he realized that she was joking.

He wasn't entirely pleased that she thought she knew enough about him already to assume that he would be the type of guy to hook up with girls and forget them. He was even more bothered that he had hesitated, and thereby proven her right.

But she was wrong. He wasn't really like that. At least not anymore.

"I just transferred here a few months ago."

He nodded. That made much more sense. He didn't know everyone at the school, but someone like her, he would remember. No doubt about it. He had been so busy over the last few months that any newcomers had remained just an anonymous face in the crowd.

He decided to ignore his embarrassment. "So, I know we just met and this is kind of straightforward, but I'm hungry, actually starving, and was hoping that you may have something to throw my way."

She shrugged. "There's pickles." He made a face, as if he had just entered the men's bathroom upstairs and someone had yet again failed to flush the toilet.

"That's all you have to offer?" He wasn't entirely sure that he was still talking about food. "What would you like?" She was clearly not picking up on his innuendo, as her voice was completely void of any double meaning. He wasn't sure if she didn't hear it or simply choose to ignore it. He was leaning towards the latter, though.

"Don't know. Definitely not pickles, though."

She shrugged, as if saying 'your loss'.

"I have some eggs, don't know if you can work some magic with those."

"I don't know, I mean, maybe pancakes, but I would need a better kitchen to make something edible...". He scanned the small cooking area. Nope. Wouldn't work.

"I thought a good cook can cook anywhere".

He made a second take, at first mistaking her saying 'cock', strangely excited by the obscenity coming from her, but quickly realizing that he had misheard her.

They had met less than 5 minutes ago and she was already mocking him.

He decided that he liked it.

He would bet that she was immune to the good looks he was well aware that he had, given that he was shirtless, his shorts slung low on his hips, and she didn't seem to register it. Or care.

That was unusual.

Unheard of, even.

He decided that he liked that too.

"That only leaves cereal."

He shrugged. "Beggars can't be choosers."

"Clearly". She was apparently a fan of sarcasm. He was apparently a fan of her.

She handed him a bowl and turned back to her book.

"Serve yourself".

The conversation was clearly over.

He had just met her, but she was unquestionably the thinking type, introverted, believing that she should and could keep things inside. Yet, it was as if he was able to read her like the open book that was on the counter, the book she had been writing in before he interrupted her from her thoughts.

She had some type of figurative wall put up, and it was funny to him, because the wall was so blatantly obvious that it inadvertently served the complete opposite of its intended purpose, as, rather than keeping him out, it made him more intrigued to see what was hidden behind it. He was willing to climb it. Walk around it. Or maybe even break it down.

It also seemed like she was the crying type, as a smudged line of what could only be presumed to be dried up mascara was clearly visible on her face. It instantly bothered him to no end.

She was so pretty.

He had always claimed that he preferred blondes, but he was more than willing to change that position on the spot.

Done.

She walked away from him without saying bye, as she became acutely aware of her semi-visible nipples peeking through the thin material of her light tank top, logging her beat up notebook and the half-eaten bowl of cereal.

"Don't steal the rest of my food", and he shook his head in promise.

It wasn't as if she had anything he wanted anyways.

Any food that is.

She had plenty of other things he wanted.

He watched her leave, as he was still munching contently on her sugary cereal. Delicious. And he was thinking about the breakfast, not her ass.

...

She flinched when she entered the bathroom, her mirror reflection a mess of unbrushed hair and black mascara smudges.

The silhouettes of her nipples _were_ clearly visible through her shirt.

So much for the freedom of the hallways.

And way to make a good impression. Maybe he didn't notice.

Not that she cared either way.

...

He was in his room, thinking and finally writing. He felt more inspired than for months. Maybe it was the relief of knowing that he had a week of complete freedom in front of him. Freedom from everything, from everyone.

He couldn't focus entirely, though. Why couldn't he get the thought of her in her teeny tiny shorts out of his head? Or those nipples, God, he wanted to...focus.

Why the fuck was it bothering him so much that she had been crying? He knew, that in this case, in difference from the many other crying girls on campus over the past few years, it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

It wasn't as if she would allow him to make it better even if he did know how. Oh, he could think of quite a few ways of comforting her.

Yeah.

Focus.

...

She may have hated the beach, but she did enjoy spending time outside, the vacuumed air of the dorm room already almost suffocating her.

She decided to go for a run. Or maybe a walk. She settled on a combination of the two, walking along the beach and then jogging slowly around campus.

She was on her way back when a voice broke the serene silence. She knew who it was without turning around. There weren't that many options, after all.

He was catching up to her.

"Hey, you, Pickle."

She cringed. She loved _them_, hated nicknames. Especially food nicknames. Ewww.

"Don't call me that, it makes me feel like I'm in trouble. Like I'm in a pickle."

He enjoyed the way her nose scrounged up when she was in disagreement. Which, for some reason, he could predict to be pretty often.

If _she_ was the pickle, he definitely wanted to be in one.

His intoxicating laughter made another appearance.

She was a little offended that he didn't remember her actual name, until she recalled that she hadn't given it to him. And she, coincidentally, didn't know his, either.

"It's Ally", not bothering extending her sweaty hand.

"Austin", still panting hard as he had been running fast to catch up to her.

Of course he was named after a city in Texas. Why not. Why the fuck not.

God. There was laughter, panting, sweat, cut off shirt and the smell of cologne and man, all in a mix, bottled up into the visually pleasing package that was him. She didn't know why it if effected her, why he effected her, but he did. She was lucky she had a strong, very strong, mind as her body was responding to him in all sorts of ways. Lucky, indeed. Otherwise, he could get a pickle into her, as her mind and body were not always in agreement with the whole celibacy thing.

But that was the absolutely last thing that she needed.

At least according to her head.

"Why are you running so fast? It's a beautiful day, you should enjoy it." She was. The day more so than the exercise. And even a little bit more so since he had uninvitedly joined her.

"I.. have...to...stay...in...shape", he was still catching his breath, "I'm on the basketball team".

"I know."

He couldn't stop himself from smiling as he realized that just because he didn't recognize her, didn't mean she didn't know who he was. He just hoped she had heard _something_ positive.

She was clearly not an athlete, but he admired her effort. A for effort, F for efficacy. She looked like she was in physical pain although he knew she was just bored.

He had slowed down substantially, now keeping her slow, steady pace. He was glancing at her, sideways. She noticed but ignored him. She was running, not to be distracted.

By anything.

By anyone.

"You look prettier without that black stuff on your face." He meant it. She _was_ even prettier without the dried trails of tears gracing her fair skin.

She laughed, cynically. "The guy that thinks girls are prettier without make-up is dating the real-life version of Barbie. A little ironic, don't you think?"

He laughed out loud again, this time at the uncanny accuracy of her nickname for his currently-on-a-break-from girlfriend.

"I didn't know you knew so much about me". He liked it. Really liked it.

"I don't. I saw you guys outside of the dorms yesterday, that's all."

He smiled again, as he recalled the strange feeling he had had of being observed the day before. Now, knowing that it had been her, he genuinely didn't mind.

She could do nothing but stare at him all day and it would still be the best day ever.

"First of all, I don't mind make-up, but I don't believe it's intended use is to be smeared in black spots all over your face. Please correct me if I'm wrong."

Damn. So he had noticed.

"And Barbie and I..." he was smirking, "it's...complicated", he concluded, realizing that he didn't owe her an explanation. And frankly, it didn't seem like she would care for one.

She hated herself with a passion for being intrigued.

They jogged in silence for a few minutes, the pace way too slow for him, but he enjoyed the company too much to speed up and leave her behind. Something told him, though, that he would be better off if he kept quiet.

They were a few hundred yards away from the dorm when he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll race you back".

"Yeah, whatever", as she continued in the same slow pace. He ran with her, still not wanting to leave her side, when suddenly, about 100 yards away from the entrance, she started sprinting. Fast. As fast as she could.

It caught him completely off-guard, and he stalled for a few seconds in surprise, inadvertently given her an unintended head start. They reached the door at the same time, both reaching for the handle, her reaching it first and his hand landing on top of hers, completely covering it.

She pulled back, surprised by the skin to skin contact. She didn't do that.

They entered the lobby, and she was laughing, uncontrollably, the rustiness of it decreasing further with each breath. It almost sounded like a real laugh. Almost.

"I won."

"You tricked me". He tried to sound upset but failed miserably.

"Maybe". He loved her laughter. Shit, he wanted to bottle it up, sell it for profit, but more than anything, he wanted to be the reason behind it. It was weird. He didn't even know her.

She started to walk towards the stairway.

"I have to take a shower. See ya!"

"Yeah, see you around". He decided to be frank as his concealed attempts of flirting with her earlier in the day had been coldly ignored. "Unless you want some company in that shower."

Her laughter got stuck in her throat, and she didn't know what to say as pictures of them showering together quickly entered her head and was equally quickly blocked out. Not going to happen. She couldn't think of a witty response, so she settled on ignoring him again. It had worked earlier in the morning.

She was climbing the stairs, her heart beating fast, and not just because of the fast-paced race.

...

It had been his idea. A week to himself. Away from partying, away from her, away from the team, clear his head and pursue his actual dream. He never had the time, between school and basketball and Cassidy claiming all his time in between.

She hadn't taken it well, but he knew that she was going to take any opportunity to hook-up with random guys, and most likely rub it in his face when coming back.

That didn't bother him. What bothered him was the fact that that didn't bother him.

As he let the hot water run down his body, he realized he wasn't missing Cassidy at all.

...

She was in the girls' lounge, lazily draped on the too old couch, not wanting to spend another night in the contained space that quickly started to remind her of a prison cell.

The light from the nearby window was gradually decreasing as the day was approaching it's unavoidable death.

It was Saturday night. During Spring Break. And she was by herself, reading a book while intermittently scratching down some lyrics.

Oh, how things had changed in a year.

She had just started to get into the intricate plot when she heard the door to the wing open.

"What's up, Pickle?"

"Ally"

"I think I'm going to stick with Pickle".

It would only be fair, then, if she came up with a nickname for him. For some strange reason, she had a feeling she would be seeing him around a lot.

"Fine...dimples."

"Wow, what an insult", the fantastic laughter that she had gotten a sneak preview of both the previous day and earlier in the morning filling the room like much-needed air freshener.

"Maybe I don't like dimples?" She did. Like a lot.

He laughed again. "Care for some company?" as he sat down next to her without waiting for her hesitant answer.

She really wasn't sure. Her mind said no. Her body said yes yes yes.

"What are you reading anyways?" She held up the book, showing him the cover, not tearing her eyes away from the text as she pretended that she was still reading. As if she could focus on the book with him so close by. The hair on his arm was tickling hers. He didn't move and she figured the sexual energy almost pulsating through the room was a product of her own, and only her own, imagination.

Besides, he had a complicated girlfriend.

"Oh, I read that already".

That did it. Her focus was completely gone, and she could no longer pretend to keep her eyes on the pages. She felt bad as she realized that surprise was written all over her face.

"What, you assumed I was illiterate because I'm an athlete?" He sounded offended.

"No". Ashamed.

"Because I'm good looking?". Now, he was smirking. She kind of wanted to punch him.

"Maybe because you're conceded."

Quick wit. He loved it. It was nice to have a conversation with a girl, for a change.

"What is that old saying again? Damn. I can't remember it. No, wait. Don't judge a book by it's cover. You seem to be a reader, maybe you should memorize that one."

Her face was burning, as she had done just that. He decided to put her out of her misery, even if he did enjoy it a little too much.

He changed the topic.

"Do you always eat and write at the same time?" He nodded to the bowl and notebook on the table next to her, recalling that she had done the same in the morning before his interruption.

God, had he only just met her today?

"Food gives me inspiration".

Interesting, he would remember that.

He was curious as to what she was writing, but knew better than to ask.

"So who goes first?"

"Huh?" She had no clue what he was taking about.

"Who is going to tell their story first?"

She shook her head. "I don't have a story".

"Everyone does. Especially those staying in the dorms for spring break".

She shrugged. "I had absolutely no better place to be." It sounded exactly as sad as it was.

He hesitated.

"So it's pretty clear someone hurt you." It wasn't a question.

"Yep" Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"Like...physically?" He hesitated again.

"No...unless a shattered heart constitutes a physical injury."

Oh. He was weirdly relieved, as the thought of someone laying hands on her almost made him see black. Not that a broken heart made him feel that much better, but that was to be expected. They were in college. Some guys were assholes. Sad story, but nothing new.

"Well, you know what they say, when life gives you lemons, say fuck it, get some salt and tequila and throw one hell of a party."

She actually laughed. "Good thing you didn't stick with the traditional one. Because I have drunk so much lemonade that I think I'm chronically allergic."

She was trying to joke, but he could tell she was starting to shut him out.

"Maybe set up a side business and sell some?"

"I could pay me college tuition with that profit." Her laugh was fake.

It was completely dark outside. Bed time.

She rose, gathering her things.

"Good night, Pickle."

"Good night, Dimples."

It made him smile, inadvertently treating her to a full display of the reasons behind the nickname.

She walked towards her room, well aware that he was still observing her.

He was checking out her ass. Yes. Yes, he was. So sue him. It was a nice one.

...

She was in bed,brazing herself for hours of insomnia.

Strangely, it had been the best Saturday night that she could remember.

She fell asleep, without any major emotional struggle.

It must be due to all that exercise.


	3. Chapter 2 - Sunday & Sex

**A/N; I had originally thought to post this story in a one chapter per day format, corresponding to the current day of the week. That obviously didn't work out, but I am trying to update as frequently as possible. However, the next chapter may take a few days. Thank you guys for the favorites, follows and reviews. It's amazing and awesome and I appreciate it so very much.**

**Ok, remember, this story is rated M. Just a friendly reminder for no specific reason what so ever (= **

**Chapter 3 - Sunday & Sex **

A knock on the door startled her. It was early, very early for a Sunday morning, and as she knew exactly who was on the other side, she was stunned. He didn't come off as an early riser. Then again, he had already surprised her a few times and she had only just met him 24 hours ago.

How did he know what room was hers? She hadn't told him. He had either spied on her, again, probably following her last night, or he had made the effort to knock on every door on the floor until hitting jackpot. She wasn't sure which one she considered odder. Or sweeter.

She grabbed a robe and covered up her PJs. She had given him enough of a peek show yesterday. She opened the door, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door quickly behind her.

He was wearing a t-shirt today, thank God, and his blond head was a nice mess of unbrushed hair. In difference from hers the previous day, it suited him.

"Morning, Pickle. Let me take you to breakfast, pay you back for yesterday."

Dimples were out to play on his too handsome face, making her hesitation waver a little more with each glorious second.

What was the harm in a little food? It wasn't as if it was a date. It was Sunday morning, for crying out loud.

She was starving and the boxed cereal had already lost its short-lived appeal.

She nodded. "Give me a minute to change".

He was slightly disappointed when she closed the door behind her. He would pay good money to watch her change. Wait, what?

She reappeared, not five minutes later, and to his discontentment she wasn't wearing shorts. Damn. Still looked amazing, though. But he had been hoping for an opportunity to discretely ogle those legs of hers.

His car was nice, well-kept but messy, the to-be-expected basketball shoes thrown in the back and more than a few papers, the top ones closely resembling syllabi, stacked in the front passenger seat.

"I'm sorry".

He had been too excited to see her again, that he hadn't really thought it through. He should have probably cleaned out the car before chasing her down.

She watched, amused, as he hurriedly began moving things into the trunk.

If he had only seen her room, he wouldn't be this embarrassed. Or her car, for that matter.

"Nice car."

"It used to be my sister's, I took it over when I left for college".

"You have a sister?"

"Yeah. You?"

She just nodded in response as she climbed into the now empty front seat.

The drive was short, a few minutes, and they soon pulled up outside of a diner that she hadn't ever been to before and quiet honestly, wasn't quite sure that she wanted to visit. Yet alone eat at.

If she had been worried that it was a date, her worries were clearly unfounded. This was not the place for trying to impress someone. As she thought of it, though, she kind of liked the fact that he was comfortable enough around her to bring her to a place that was all but fancy. It felt real, like he wasn't trying to impress her, not because he didn't care, but because he cared enough to make the effort to share something personal with her instead.

Still wasn't sure she wanted to eat there, though.

He sensed her hesitation.

"It's a little rough looking, but their pancakes are amazing. No judging by the cover and all of that, remember?"

She decided to take his word for it, and soon they were situated by the window, a large plate of hot pancakes covered with sweet maple syrup in the middle of the small, round table, the smell making her stomach growl and her mouth water, the latter courtesy of a combination of the hot pancakes and her equally, or possibly exceedingly, hot company.

To be frank, watching him devour something so lustfully turned her on. She had never known that someone eating could be so tantalizing. Most men ate like pigs. The sounds coming out of his mouth as he swallowed down piece after piece of the yellowish circles were, admittedly, animalistic and dirty, but far from pig-like.

Wow. Way to contain herself.

It was Sunday morning, they were in some half-empty, shady diner where the quality of the rest of the food on the menu was definitely to be considered questionable, and all she kept wondering was how it would feel to have him touch her.

She took a bite for herself and was conveyed. He was correct. They were exactly as great as he made them out to be.

"So how's that broken heart of yours?" Casually, as if he was talking about the never-changing weather or some old, ailing pet.

Strangely, it didn't sting as much as she had thought it would. Or as much as it used to. "I'm working on it, putting the pieces back together, you know..."

"Need a band-aid? Maybe some tape?" He was sincere despite his playful demeanor.

She appreciated his joke. She wasn't ready to talk about it in all seriousness.

She wasn't sure she would ever be ready for that.

"More like a lifelong supply of the best brand of superglue."

Ouch.

"That bad, huh?"

She shrugged, uncomfortably.

Clearly time for a change of topic.

"What about you? Complicated, what does that mean?"

Was she positive that she really wanted to know?

"That something is difficult to understand or explain".

"Yes, thank you, that's what I was talking about. I was really asking you for the Webster definition."

He smirked. "I know what you meant. And it means that Cassidy, that's Barbie to you, and I are currently on a break. Like, a break from each other."

Oh.

His eyes were piercing hers from underneath his face-gracing hair, some type of hard to describe or possibly ambiguous emotion was floating around in there, as if he was curious to know what her response to that information would be, but too scared to ask her straight out.

Good.

She wasn't sure how she felt about it and wasn't at all in the know on how to comment on it. It had given her some sense of false security to know that he was with someone else as she would never, ever, contemplate getting involved, in any way, with someone who was in a relationship. Yet, the fact that he was currently unattached, and thereby, in theory, available, created unwelcome jelly legs and rapid heart beats. Instantly.

Damn body. Control yourself.

She didn't really get it, though. In her world, things were pretty much black or white. You were either together or not. The shady, grey, in-between business was not for her.

He paid, not letting her ship in and automatically making her debate the date-issue once again. Not that she didn't appreciate the gesture. He insisted that it was his treat, as he was the one who had initiated their breakfast adventure. She decided that she was going to treat him back, not because she felt like she had to but because she wanted to.

He swung his arm around her shoulders as they walked out, and she didn't flinch. Miracle.

He smelt good, by the way. As intoxicating as his laughter.

He opened the lobby door for her as they returned to the dorm.

"Thank you so much, those pancakes were amazing." She meant it.

"Just like you." Wait, that was only in his head.

"Glad that you agreed to live a little". That was better. More appropriate.

She smiled, and raised her hand in a short goodbye wave. She wanted to hug him but couldn't. Wouldn't.

She was walking towards the door leading to her staircase.

"What are you doing later? Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

He sounded eager yet nervous, resulting in some hard to resist adorableness.

She was probably the only straight female on earth over the age of 5 that would describe him as adorable. She was flattered that he had asked, almost excited.

Part of her was wondering if he only paid attention to her because she was the only one around, but the other part couldn't care less. It wasn't as if she was looking for anything, anyways, other than possible friendship. She had thought she wanted to be alone, but he was fun and his life energy was, amazingly yet not disturbingly, as contagious as she had predicted on Friday afternoon while observing him through that upstairs window.

Never mind that she generally wasn't this attracted to her friends.

She turned around, ready to confirm his proposition, when she remembered. Shoot. She did have something to do.

"I'm actually...I'm bar tending tonight."

She could have told him she was going bungee-jumping and he had not been more surprised.

"Where?"

"Why, planning to stalk me?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Maybe. And if so, you will be happy. If I receive great service, I'm a very good tipper".

She ignored his insinuation once again. It started to become routine.

She was positive he was a good tipper. Among many other things.

"Over at 'The Bar'. I'm covering my roommates shifts there while she's gone."

That was his favorite bar. That could not be a coincidence.

...

She had spent the rest of the day cooped up in her room, catching up on school work and writing, to her own surprise, almost a full song. And not even a sad one. She had found some inspiration in the absence of her usual headaches, for once having pleasant dreams and waking up in a not too bad of a mood. She had written more in the last few hours than the last few months combined. It must be due to those delicious pancakes.

...

She entered the bar, hesitantly as she had actually never been there before, always coming up with lame but passable excuses when Trish had begged her to come join her while working there.

For the break, however, she couldn't come up with anything, as she knew that Trish was painstakingly aware of her lack of plans. She had convinced her to cover her shifts, as a way of making some extra money and, as she had so eloquently put it, get out a little.

It was funny that she had only known Trish for a few months, and yet she was able to predict exactly how she had planned to spend her time off.

So she had agreed, reluctantly.

She kind of liked it.

It was small, but cute, the generic bar paraphernalia intermixed with pictures of what she could only presume to be local celebrities.

She greeted Trish's boss, now her temporary boss, him introducing himself as Jimmy, then quickly trying to make herself comfortable behind the bar. The other bartender for the night quickly showed her the ropes, and she quickly got the hang of it. She liked Kira. She soon learned that she was Jimmy's daughter.

She felt comfortable. She was no expert, bit she had the basics down path.

Half an hour later, and someone had bought her her first drink. What was that rule that Trish had tried to make her remember, again? Something about accepting drinks, but spitting something out...never mind, she got the accepting drinks part, that must be the most important one.

One more generous customer later, and she was already tipsy.

"Ally, I want you to meet someone".

Jimmy's voice startled her, and when she turned around she stumbled on her own foot in the process. Two strong arms hindered her fall.

"No need to throw yourself at me, all you have to do is ask". She blushed and punched him in the shoulder.

"Didn't mean to scare you". She was scared, alright. Shitless. More so by the irresistible smile that he was flashing her than anything else.

"So, I guess you couldn't help but stalk me."

So help him God, she was wearing shorts. Short shorts. Teeny tiny as -short-as-her-sleep-shorts shorts.

"Don't know what you're talking about. I'm here to catch up with an old friend", slapping Jimmy familiarly on the back before the older man walked away.

"See you Wednesday, Austin".

"Sure thing." He sounded excited.

Interesting.

It just so happened that her next shift was going to be on Wednesday.

"So what can you _do_?" Not talking about her bar tending skills as he had walked around to the outside of the bar and was now leaning nonchalantly on the counter.

"What?"

"Drinks? What's your _specialty_?" Not talking about drinks.

His not so successful flirting was rudely interrupted by someone on the other side of the bar.

"Hey, sweet cheeks, give me some sugar".

She ignored the man, serving him his drink but not accepting his offer to buy her one. He protested, loudly, then continuing his jargon of obscenities. He clearly didn't know how to take a hint.

"Come on baby, just a little kiss".

The man was blowing air kisses at her. She looked uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Hey, leave her alone." He sounded angrier than intended but less angry than he was.

"Who are you, her jealous boyfriend?" He wished.

"None of your fucking business".

"That means no, so shut the fuck up. And you, missy, I know you're type. Stuck-up, pretending to be a prude, but then let's lose completely in bed. I know you want it, don't be such a fucking tease."

She was tomato red and his fist was twitching, he could already clearly visualize his fist punching the douche-bag's nose in, the imagined adrenaline from the satisfaction of cracking his bone already starting to pump through his veins.

Lucky, undecidedly for him or the other man, Jimmy showed up right on time and escorted the too drunk to walk man out of there.

"Thanks", shyly and still embarrassed.

"Anytime." And he meant it. He would keep horny, drunk men away from her at any cost.

All of them.

All of them except for himself.

Jimmy called her over and told her that she could leave if she wanted to, as the bar stated to empty out and Kira would stay for the rest of the night which at this point was only another hour.

"See you Wednesday. Open-mic night".

She nodded in agreement.

"So you're shift is over?" He sounded hopeful. She nodded in confirmation.

"Lets take some shots." He knew she would disagree.

"I don't do shots."

"And how is that working out for you? Are you happy?"

She shook her head at him as he was using the flawed logic yet selling strategy of every alcoholic out there, dead or alive, but also realized that he did have a point.

She was on spring break. During last year's break, at this point, she had already...

Wow, last year...

Yep, she definitely was going to have another drink. A shot, even.

Perhaps some alcohol-induced fun was exactly what she needed.

She had all but agreed before a small glass with clear liquid was placed in front of her by Kira. She smelled it, reluctantly.

Tequila.

Of course.

"You brought the lemons, right?" She laughed, recalling their conversation from the previous night.

"Im surprisingly lemon free as of late".

He shrugged, but he was celebrating on the inside. Seeing her happy, well, happier, was, oddly, all he wanted.

"Doesn't mean we cant throw one hell of a party", handing her the salt and a lemon wedge as he prepared for round one.

A few rounds later, and she was giggling. It was funny, really, because it was as if each drop of alcohol substantially weakened her head, letting her body be in charge, making decisions that were undoubtedly to be questioned later.

"Let's dance". He wasn't asking.

Not a great idea.

He swayed her to the music, taking the lead as he instinctively knew she wouldn't, quickly realizing that she was everything but a great dancer.

He should have known, he had watched her run.

Their bodies became closer intertwined with each passing minute, soon engaging on some type of slow dance despite the DJ playing music that was anything but.

He was taller than her, by quite a bit, yet she for perfectly tightly pushed up against his body. As if she belonged there.

He let his hand run over her back, itching to touch her ass but not daring to. The fact that she let him hold her close was more than he would have hoped for.

The bar was closing down.

"Let's split a cab". He knew neither of them was in shape to drive."It's not like we're not going home together, anyways." He smirked.

That did it. Standing on her tippy toes despite her high wedges, she was whispering seductively in his ear.

"My room or yours?"

He wasn't sure what to answer. He was in shock that she finally responded to his half-covered attempts at flirting, but so unequipped to respond to her as he had expected it to never happen.

They were outside, waiting for the cab that was supposed to arrive in ten minutes but was now going on twenty, his arm around her shoulder and the sexual energy not just pulsating through the air but consuming them.

He kissed her for the first time because he could not not to. It was soft, not necessarily hesitant but restrained on his part, hesitant but not necessarily restrained on hers.

He had been wanting to kiss her since he first saw her behind that bar. No actually, since last night on the girls lounge couch. Nevermind, since she beat him running yesterday. Nope, nope, that wasn't it. Since he saw her leaned up against the kitchen counter and before he had even had the pleasure of seeing her beautiful face. That was it.

Shots and making out. Even some bad dancing. It was staring to look like spring break, after all.

The second one was in the backseat of the half an hour delayed cab, and none of them could recall whom had initiated it but it really didn't matter as the kiss was now all but restrained. He was running his hand over her bare legs and any hint of reluctance was far gone. It was hard for him to believe that this was the same girl that had flinched when their hands had touched, as late as the previous day.

He wasn't thinking.

He shouldn't be doing this.

This wasn't happening.

He was supposed to figure out what he was doing with his life. Not complicate it further. But shit, did he want to get complicated. Naked complicated. With her.

She knew she was going to regret it and yet, she didn't care.

This was fun.

Mind-free.

Thoughtless.

Fun.

His kisses reflected his personality, hot yet sweet and oddly intoxicating. She was surprised. It wasn't like she didn't expect him to be good at it.

She just didn't expect to enjoy it so much.

He kissed her again in the darkened staircase leading up to his wing, her back pushed back into the steel reeling and not caring the slightest as she didn't want to break away from the mouth she was eagerly exploring.

He was...something else.

She wanted him. Badly.

She wasn't thinking.

Good.

They started moving up the stairs, their lips still interlocked.

Apparently, the answer to her earlier question was _his_ room.

They entered, undressing each other, aiming for slow but settling on semi-so.

Her mind wasn't working. It allowed her body to enjoy him, her brain shutting off, for the first time in months.

It was liberating, because in the past she had always confused sex with love. As if they somehow, inadvertently, had to occur at the same time. She had learned the hard way that that wasn't the case.

This time around, she knew better.

But holy crap.

It was as if he knew exactly what she liked, as if he had an instruction manual written of her body stashed away in his nightstand, almost as if they had done this before...

And his body, that body...

"I wanted to take you on that couch last night", his voice in her ear as his hips were grinding into hers almost as if he had lost control of them.

"What?" So maybe that sexual tension had not just been a product of her own imagination.

"And I wanted to take you up against that kitchen counter" "We had just met". She meant to sound scolding but failing as she was panting heavily from his fingers running over her body.

He didn't respond as he was hungrily kissing her again, pushing her down on his narrow twin bed and covering her with himself, then both of them with his comforter, creating a private cave of intimacy in his all but cozy room.

Heaven. Him touching her was heaven.

Heaven. Touching her was heaven.

"Tell me to stop...if you don't want this, which I'm pretty sure you don't, you have to tell me."

And she realized that there was absolutely no way she wanted him to.

Stop, that is.

Wait, was she really going to do this?

She hadn't been with anyone since _him_. She hadn't even kissed anyone since then.

His tongue made contact with the skin on her neck again, melting away the last of her doubts.

Yep. Yep, she was doing this.

She shouldn't but she would.

After all, there had to be some truth behind the the best-way-to-get-over-someone-is-to-get-under-someone-else motto. And shit, did she want to get under him.

He was making her feel things she hadn't known that she missed and had had no idea that she had been craving.

She kissed him, hard, letting him know her answer to his unstated question.

He shakingly reached for something in his bedside drawer and she stopped him as she knew what he was looking for. "You don't need it." He growled out loud.

Holy hell.

This was going to be good.

Not that he hadn't known that already.

He was on her again, his lips on hers as he entered her, one swift movement and she gasped as he filled her.

Wet. Tight. Mind-blowing.

The bed was moving, the metal frame hitting the cement wall with each thrust, his hot breath panting in her ear as she had sex for the first time in a long time.

Sex.

It was just sex.

Pure and simple.

Well, neither pure nor simple.

It was much better than she could remember.

He was moving in short circles, barely able to contain himself but knowing that he needed to. He needed to last. At least for a few fucking minutes. He was still half in disbelief that this was actually happening.

He slowed down, keeping his cock still inside of her to prevent himself from cumming while he reached down and rubbed her into bliss.

She came undone, waves of pleasure similar to the ones on the ocean outside rippling through her, and just like the ocean waves, she wanted it to last into eternity. _He_ made her feel anything but insignificant.

He followed, savoring the way she was moving against him as she climaxed, soon screaming out her name, her _actual_ name, the sound filling the sparsely decorated room and sipping out under the door, soon echoing throughout the abandoned hallway as he came hard inside of her.

...

So that had been amazing.

Just what she needed.

And yet, paradoxically, exactly what she didn't.


	4. Chapter 3 - Monday & Mistakes

**A/N; The hangover is here.**

**Chapter 4 - Monday & Mistakes **

Where was she?

Where was the eye piercing sunlight?

Where was the eye piercing cheetah print?

Shit, why was her head throbbing like that?

And why was there an arm on top of her?

A tanned, muscular, heavy arm, snaked around her like a vine on a thick branch. Well, maybe she was the vine and his arm was the branch.

Whatever.

The realization that she wasn't in her own room hit her like a snowball speeding downhill, her panic escalating with each added layer and reaching an all time high when she realized she was naked.

Right.

Shit.

It was _his_ arm.

And she had touched much more than his _arm_ the previous night.

She managed to unhook herself from his grip, quickly gathering her thrown around clothes without him as much as attempting to move.

He was apparently a heavy sleeper.

Something _else_ they didn't have in common.

She closed the door quietly behind her, internally cursing at herself as she completed the walk of shame, luckily minus the judging audience.

...

Where was he? Right, his own bed. Naked.

Shit, why was his head throbbing like that? Right, tequila. Lots of it.

Where was she? The one answer he didn't have. Fuck.

The realization that she was no longer in his room hit him like a baseball headed for a home run.

And hurt just as much.

He knew he had messed up. He had done exactly what he shouldn't have. He was already regretting it, not because it hadn't been amazing, from what he could remember, it had been fucking fantastic, but because he knew she did. And because he had fucked her like she was any other, random girl, although he knew, instinctively, despite having just met her a couple of days ago, that she was _anything_ but.

He had this eerie feeling that he needed her in his life, one way or another. And if he had somehow jeopardized that, all because he was a little, or maybe a lot, attracted to her, he would never forgive himself.

He wasn't going to let her sneak out of his room and think that she could sneak out of his life. Because that was exactly what she was trying to do.

She _had_ wanted it, though. He was sure of it.

_He_ had definitely _wanted_ it, her, he still wanted it, her.

Again and again and again.

And then again.

Damn. His self-control was apparently much more abundant under sober conditions. They should put that in the warning text on the bottles.

"Consumption of alcoholic beverages impairs your ability to use good judgement".

Oh, wait.

Maybe that was already common knowledge.

Yes, he had been drunk. But he should have known better either way.

...

She was in the shower, cleaning her body when all she wanted to do was clean her head. She was confused, both by her feelings running all over the place and the uncertainty of what was to happen next. She had no idea what she wanted to happen next. So she did the only thing she knew she was good at. She cried. Cried, unsure of the triggering emotion, while watching the water swirling into the drain along with her tears.

If her room had been suffocating before, it was downright strangling her now.

She needed to get out of there.

...

He knocked.

Again.

And again.

No answer.

...

She returned from her lengthy stroll, unsuccessful in clearing her head.

He was occupying it and she was trying to evict him. Over and over. At absolutely no avail.

He was by her door. Slouched down on the floor with his back resting up against it, his elbows resting on his knees and his head resting in his hands, as if he had been there for a while and had absolutely no intentions of leaving. Like ever.

She accidentally tripped, on herself, the sound of her body hitting the floor startling him.

Clumsy had once been her middle name.

Ally Clumsy Dawson.

Sounded about right.

He rose automatically, helping her up.

"Hi"

"Hi"

as their eyes met.

He looked as tired as she felt.

"I'm sorry", his voice uncertain, as if he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for yet sensing that she needed one.

She wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't quite sure _she_ was even sorry.

He took her lack of responding as an indication that she was mad.

And she kind of was. Just not at him.

"I know I shouldn't have done that..."

"We shouldn't have done that, it wasn't all you. I mean, I'm pretty sure you asked me to stop you, and I'm a hundred percent sure I didn't, so the mistake is mine".

Her corrective interruption was ringing like pop music in his ears as his guilt over possibly haven taken advantage of her lessened some. He hadn't been wrong.

She _had_ been wanting to sleep with him too.

Yet, the tune quickly turned into a depressing country ballad, as she had just confirmed his suspicion that she, in fact, thought of their night together as a mistake.

Ouch.

He had been brazing himself for it, predicting, even expecting, it. It hurt, but he wasn't surprised.

Sneaking away in the morning was, after all, the telltale sign of regret if there ever was one.

If she was a mistake it was the best one he had ever done. Literally.

It was quiet for a few eternal minutes, none of them knowing what to say, the silence of the building suddenly ear deafening.

"I...I don't care what we are, but I really, really want to continue to hang out with you. I much rather have you like me than sleep with me." He realized it was the absolute truth.

She felt bad. It was pretty clear that his conscious was gnawing away at him.

"Look, I...last night was, I don't know, amazing, I guess, from what I can remember...I don't know if I regret it, but I do know I can't do it again. I don't do grey."

He looked confused. "Grey areas. I don't do them. My world is black or white, all or nothing. And all is not currently an option for me, I'm honestly not sure if it ever will be again, so that leaves nothing..."

Nothing? How was that the only option?

"Once is an accident, twice is a bad habit. I'm not picking up on the routine of fucking random hot men who I barely know."

He sure hoped not.

Unless that hot man was him.

"What about friends?" His voice wasn't completely steady. "I mean, it might be better, anyways, you know, with my complication and all..."

Who was he kidding? He hadn't even talked to Cassidy since she left, and this was the first time she crossed his mind for days.

Why did that stab her like a butcher knife in the chest?

This was _exactly_ why she wasn't doing this anymore.

She didn't like to _feel_ things.

Damn it.

"I don't know". It was her honest answer.

"Just think of me as your roommate or something."

She almost laughed despite her somber mood. There was a big difference between her roommate and him. She may love Trish, but insanely attractive, she was not.

And, well, he was.

"I..I'll think about it."

He nodded. Guess that's all he had the right to ask for.

...

He was in his room, trying to finish the damn thing.

Nothing.

She was occupying his mind when he wanted her to occupy his life. She was unfortunately a reluctant tenant, because as he wanted her to sign a year-long lease, she didn't even want to commit to a month-to-month contract.

To say that the hesitant knock on his door a few hours later surprised him would be an understatement.

He opened and she smiled and suddenly he had no idea why he had been in such a bad mood.

"Ok."

He had never known that one word, two short letters, could make him feel so indescribably relieved.

And happy.

It hadn't been a difficult decision. She knew, despite trying to convince herself otherwise, that there was absolutely no way she was going to be able to stay away from him.

He couldn't believe he hugged her. He shouldn't.

She couldn't believe he hugged her. He should do, wait, shouldn't do that.

"So is it too early in the friendship to ask for a favor?"

"Probably not. I did ask you to feed me after less than 5 minutes of conversation."

"True. Good. I need a ride to pick up my car".

He almost shouted yes, still too excited.

She winced. "Please keep it down. I have a pretty horrible headache".

...

They pulled up outside of the bar, the car ride short and quiet.

"Thank you", her voice low as she exited and walked towards her car.

He knew she wasn't just referring to the ride.

He nodded. "Sure thing", realizing that there was nothing in the entire universe that she could ask him to do that he wouldn't.

Well, maybe murder.

Maybe.

Depending on who they were talking about.

Crap. His uncomplicated week was suddenly very, very complicated.

She was halfway to her car, when she suddenly stopped, abruptly, as if she just thought of something, turning around quickly so that she wouldn't change her mind.

"Come to my floor in an hour."

She didn't have to ask him twice.

He nodded in confirmation.

"Just one thing."

"What?"

"Please don't wear shorts."

...

She was wearing jeans. The tight material was accentuating her amazing ass. Just what he needed. All of a sudden he was wishing she was wearing shorts because _anything_ would be better than the curve hugging excuse for pants that she was currently dressed in.

Luckily, he was soon distracted by something else.

The smell of food.

"You cooked me dinner?"

She smiled at his excitement. _Had_ she been interested in finding the way to his heart, she was pretty sure food was one of the quickest routes.

"Yeah, it's a, I don't know...maybe peace offering?"

He hadn't known they were at war. If last night was an indication of how she treated her enemies, he wasn't sure he wanted to be her ally, although he wished for nothing more than for her to be his.

_His_ ally.

But he would take ally over nothing any day.

"I brought you a gift", handing her a small box of Tylenol.

"Figured you might need it."

Oddly, seeing him in a good mood magically made her headache disappear, no painkillers needed.

"Thanks"

"It's what friends are for".

Interesting. "What else would you do for a friend?"

"A close one? Almost anything."

She thought about it. "Even eat pickles?"

He hesitated. That was pushing it.

He sighed. "Yes", laughing as he knew she would hold him to it.

He sat down at the old, beat-up table, the chair creaking from his weight, as he attacked the food as if there was no tomorrow.

"Mmmm..."

Damn animalistic sounds that had no effect on her whatsoever.

And his face of contentment, almost orgasmic, did nothing to her. Nothing at all.

They reached for the pot at the same time, their hands touching and only lingering for a few seconds too long.

And then they ate in agreeable silence, the sexual energy only barely contained and boiling hot like the pot of spaghetti underneath the surface.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

Good thing they were sober.

He managed to withhold his impulse of asking her to watch a movie together afterwards, knowing that he needed to give her the space that he was pretty sure she only _thought_ she needed.

Either way, he needed to focus on what he was _supposed_ to be preoccupied with.

He helped her clean up, then hugging her goodbye.

_If_ she could have trusted herself to let it stay at just that, she would have loved to have him hug her for the entire night.

Or possible even forever.

He was a good hugger.

...

The late night door knock was loud, maybe even more so because it was unexpected.

She opened, hesitantly as she was in her PJs, not knowing what to expect.

"I wrote something and I need you to let me know what you think about it."

"Wrote what?"

"A song."

Well, she hadn't expected that.

He looked like a disorganized mess and it was breathtaking.

There was a guitar in his hand. Oh man, he had a _guitar_. Her one weakness if she ever had one.

She had had no clue that he was into music.

How would she? She didn't know him.

Wait a minute, Wednesday. The Bar. Open mic night. It clicked.

"Are you planning on performing at the bar on Wednesday?"

"If I can ever get this fucking song put together, then yeah."

"Ok, let's do it in the lounge. I mean _sing_ it in the lounge."

To late. He had already pictured it.

"Just one thing first. Wait." He did. Impatiently.

She walked off towards the pantry, soon returning.

With a smile on her face.

And with the pickle jar in her hand.

"I'll listen to your song if you eat one."

He hesitated, knowing that he would give in but buying time.

"Come on, I tried the pancakes". And just like that, he caved. As he knew he would. It was _her_ asking, after all.

Surprisingly, it was delicious, salty yet somehow sweet, a strange mix of flavors that oddly added up to something..good.

Just like her.

Who would have known that he actually liked pickles.

Maybe even loved them.

They entered the lounge, and all of a sudden he was shy. For some reason, he really cared about her opinion. Funny, he had never had performance anxiety before.

He started, unsurely at first, strumming the guitar, starting over once before his voice rang out into the fairly spacious room.

She soon forgot where she was as his voice seduced her into forgetfulness, the notes making slow love to her ear drums in sweet movements.

The song ended, way too quickly, and it took her a few seconds to find _her_ voice again.

"That was amazing", realizing that she was telling the absolute truth and that she wasn't only talking about the song.

"Really?"

"I...I loved it."

He was beaming.

He knew he couldn't tell her that he had written it about her, because despite what the title of the song might be, it was _undoubtedly_ and _absolutely_ a love song.

He smiled, shyly, as his eyes met hers.

She smiled, shyly, as her eyes met his.

Was he supposed to forget about last night _completely_? Because it was challenging, to say the least. At the moment, all he could think of was her smell, her touch, her kisses, the way he had moved inside of her, the way she had pulled his hair, precisely the way he loved and the way that drove him absolutely insane.

Was she supposed to forget about last night _completely_? Because it was challenging, to say the least. At the moment, all she could think of was his smell, his touch, his kisses, the way he had moved inside of her, the way he had rubbed her, precisely the way she loved and the way that drove her absolutely insane.

Forget. Forget. Forget.

"Night, pickle." He needed to get out of there. Fast.

And she smiled as she walked to her room, alone, headed for a night of if not 8 full hours of sleep, at least a good 6.


	5. Chapter 4 - Tuesday & Tacos

**A/N; Don't mind me, this is mostly drivel. 3500 words of it. **

**Sorry.**

**Chapter 4 - Tuesday & Tacos**

She nearly _literally_ ran into him in his hallway while on her way to see him. He almost knocked her over as he was rushing to get to her floor.

Great minds think alike.

She had brought breakfast, one bowl of cereal in each hand, the spoons balancing on the edge and destined to fall any second.

Why did she feel the need to feed him? Maybe because she had an inkling that he _still_ hadn't gone to the grocery store.

It couldn't have anything to do with the by now well established fact that she had some odd fetish for watching him eat. It was really weird.

She was extremely ashamed yet simultaneously very aroused by it.

He was slightly ecstatic to see her. He had missed her.

She was slightly ecstatic to see him, but only allowed herself to think of it as happy. She had missed him.

He decided against letting her back into the scene of the crime. It had been pretty explicit and the aftermath was still vivid in his mind. He was currently serving a sentence of undisclosed time in his own personal prison of shame as punishment.

They ate in his lounge, for a change.

The couch there was, if possible, even more beat up.

"So any plans for the day?" She was trying to sound casual but was hoping that he didn't have any. She craved his company.

If he had had any plans, he could no longer remember, as the prospect of hanging out with her wiped out any prior engagements.

He shook his head as his mouth was still full of the chocolatey cereal.

"Good. Let's go grocery shopping." She sounded excited.

How did she know that he _still_ hadn't gone there?

"No no no. It is Spring Break. Let's do something fun".

"That _is_ fun."

"That's what you do for fun?"

"What? We need to eat".

He smiled at her use of plural form, yet felt bad. He needed to treat her back.

"Come on, it will be an adventure." He knew she was right, because pretty much _anywhere_ would be an adventure with her. Maybe he should ask her to help him with his still overdue laundry. Then, there may be a chance that he would _actually_ complete it. Unless he got distracted and decided to take her, hard, up against the dryer.

Ok, so he needed to keep her _out_ of the laundry room.

But the grocery store. Blah. He could think of a thousands more exciting destination for said adventure.

She saw his unenthusiastic face.

"Why, what do you want to do?"

"Go to the beach". He sounded as if he had invented the cure for cancer.

"_You_ have a strange definition of fun."

She didn't like the beach? What was wrong with her?

"Come on...me, you, some good lunch, the sun, the ocean...ok, go put on that skimpy bikini of yours."

"In your dreams."

She was not incorrect.

He pouted, giving her some type of puppy eyes that she didn't know she had had a weakness for. Damn it. He was adorable again.

"Fine. No bikini, though. I don't do bikinis."

Why was he not surprised by that?

"Ok. But at least bring some food."

"Aha...and what are you contributing?"

"Some sexy company with a side dish of charm."

"Yeah, clearly. Could you go grab a big bowl of modesty while you're at it? Sounds like you might be running short."

He laughed, the sound spreading like sparks from a bonfire into the too dusty air.

Note to herself; don't come back into the guys' lounge. Or, if she must, bring a duster.

They met up downstairs 20 minutes later, her skimpy bikini noticeably absent, her small tank top and short shorts _very_ noticeably present.

He wasn't sure what was better. Or worse.

They walked at a slow pace, the sun burning as per usual but the heat offset slightly by the spring breeze.

He wanted to hold her hand, it was as if his skin was itching to touch her. But he knew he had no right to do so.

Friends didn't hold hands.

She sat down on some rocks adjacent to the ocean.

It was infinite blue, the sun light reflecting in the slow moving waves, the rays burning away her thoughts and replacing them with inspiration.

He was right. It wasn't so bad. Or maybe it was just the company.

He observed her from his side view, not sure whether she noticed as she was scribbling something in that beat up notebook. Today, her smile that he was usually only intermittently treated to, was not just making a guest appearance on her face, but playing the leading role. She looked carefree, light, as if all that emotional baggage that she seemed to unwillingly log around had finally been dropped off at its final destination. He knew better, though. The suitcases of sorrow weren't gone, just temporarily checked in at guest services.

He rose, walking along the close to empty beach, letting his feet meet the warm water, then settling down on the fine grained sand.

"Come over here". She shook her head.

"I don't like sand, it gets...everywhere, all over me."

He wanted to get everywhere, all over her, too.

"Sorry, I didn't know your nickname should have been Negative Nancy."

"Whatever, Chipper Charlie." He had never heard that one before. She didn't even look up from her book. Preoccupied.

He snuck back to her without her noticing.

"So what are you writing?" He was looking over her shoulder, trying to sneak a peek and she automatically snapped the book shut.

"Come on, let me see."

"You wish."

She was not incorrect.

"Why not?"

"Because it's a lot more difficult to get into my book than into my pants."

And as she said it, she realized it was true.

_Nobody_ had read her book.

He laughed, in relief, because by her joking about it, he knew that they were undeniably back in a good place.

"At least tell me what you're writing."

"A song. Well, lyrics".

He was dumbfounded.

He had had no clue that she was into music. How would he? He didn't really know her.

"You could have told me yesterday, you know."

She nodded as if saying she knew she should have.

"So sing for me."

"Oh, I'm a writer, not a singer?"

"Fuck that, you are whatever you want to be. Now sing".

"I only sing in the shower".

Ahhhhhhhh. Her in the shower.

Abort mission. Abort mission.

To late.

His rocket was already ready for take-off by the mere though of it.

"At least tell me what it is about?"

"Life".

"Thank you, that was descriptive".

She laughed.

"Well, maybe you could write one for me." Writing wasn't his strength.

She nodded. Little did he know that she had already written several songs _about_ him.

A few minutes later, a small family joined them on the now otherwise empty beach, settling down a few hundred feet away. The toddler boy was crying and he noticed that she winced, almost as if she was in pain. Odd. She didn't like children? He didn't get it.

But then he looked at her again, her beautiful brown eyes glued to the little boy, and he realized that he had misinterpreted her reaction.

It wasn't that she _didn't_ like children.

It was that she really _did_.

The boy ran off towards the water, chased by his mother, and she returned to her notebook.

"I need some help with my back".

He was holding up a bottle of sun block.

What? It was true.

She complied, pretending to be reluctant but secretly pleased.

The touch of her hands on him were burning much hotter than the spring sun and he had to withhold a groan as her dainty fingers made circles on his back.

Help with sun block.

It was the oldest trick in the book.

But hey, it was a classic for a reason.

She finished and he wished he could ask her to rub him in other places. Damn it.

"Ok, I'll race you to the water".

"I don't do that. I don't go in the water".

He just shook his head in disbelief. "Your loss".

She observed him as he headed off towards the ocean, the wind playing in his hair, his step as carefree as the blazing sun, shirtless, of course, but for _once_ it was the appropriate setting for it, and she knew that, despite the very bright sunny day, she was undeniably about to enter a _very_ grey area.

...

As they were walking back towards the dorm, he realized he was starving, despite the amazing sandwiches she had made him for lunch.

"Let me take you out for dinner. It is Taco Tuesday, after all."

"Sure." She tried to not sound too excited. She wasn't sure she was completely successful."But just two friends eating together, right?"

"You got it. It's a non-date date."

"Ok."

"Perfect. You're driving."

...

She looked fucktastic. But then what else was new.

Fine, maybe she had dressed up a little.

He regretted his decision to make her drive almost immediately.

She drove like an old lady with thick glasses and a paralyzing fear of death.

"Would it kill you to pass 30?"

"Would it kill you to shut up? Damn Backseat driver."

He was in the front seat.

Her car was nice, not as messy as his but not as spotless as he had imagined.

"By the way, I got you something", her reaching towards the glove compartment and touching his leg in the process.

Yeah.

She handed him a rectangular object.

His very own notebook.

"To write down your songs".

"Thank you."

"That's what friends are for."

Right. Friends.

He had never loved a gift more.

...

The restaurant was busy, the noise of the various conversations mixed with semi-loud Mexican music. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the bright colors.

But she loved it.

They were seated at a small table in the middle of the large space, soon breaking out laughing when both of them, simultaneously and too loudly, declined the waiter's suggestion for Margaritas.

Sober was safe.

At least semi-so.

The food arrived and they dug in. Today, some off the animalistic sounds were coming from her.

They were half-through the tacos when he realized that he had been hanging out with her for days, and he had no idea what she studied.

"So, ehh...what's your major?". Slightly embarrassed. He _should_ know that already.

She had to swallow her food before answering. "English. There is a very strong possibility that I love books more than people."

He wasn't surprised by that. At all.

"How about you?"

"I'm...undecided."

"Still?"

"Well, I mean, I have a major, Im just not sure if I want to stick with it."

"What is it?"

"I don't want to tell you."

"Stop being such a turd". She really needed to step up her insult game.

"You're going to laugh."

"Will not".

"Accounting".

She almost choked from laughing uncontrollably.

He tried to not look amused.

"Oh, you're not joking".

She may have misread him, on several occasions, even incorrectly stereotyping him, but even she, with her very limited knowledge of him, could tell that that wasn't for him.

"My dad wants me to come and work for him".

"But what do you want?"

Was it possible to major in Ally Dawson? Or maybe pickle science? That sounded like fun. There needed to be a limited admittance policy into the program, though.

Preferably only one accepted student.

"I don't know. I think music".

She nodded. That made much more sense. It was clear that he was talented and even clearer that he loved it.

"That's kind of what this week is about. Time to think. And perform. Figure out if that's really what I want to do with my life. I feel like I haven't had time to think for years."

"So that's why you decided to stay here for the break? To think?"

"Yeah. I mean, I was supposed to spend half the week at Spring training with the team and the second half of the week with my friends at the beach. My parents think that's what I'm doing. And my coach and friends think I went home for a family emergency."

"So I'm the only one who know where you are?" He nodded. He started to believe that she was the only one who knew _who_ he was, as well.

"You and my sister. She's upstate, about to graduate. What about yours?" recalling that she had confirmed that she had a sister the other day.

"She's taking some time off right now."

She looked so incredibly sad. She must really miss her.

She changed the topic before he had time to reflect on it.

"So basketball...do you like it?"

"I love it. Just not as much as music. And I don't have time for both. I'm contemplating quitting the team. I'm not sure."

She quietly prayed that he would stick with it for at least one more game. For some unknown reason, she really wanted to see him play again. Sweat. Basketball jersey.

Damn fetishes.

It was quiet for a few minutes.

"So, we are friends, I passed Psychology 101 with a solid B and I have watched several episodes of Dr. Phil. Let's talk about it."

He had also taken Human Sexuality. A+. Maybe this wasn't the right time to bring that up.

"What?"

"The elephant in the room".

"Your _complication_?"

He laughed, knowing how pleased Cassidy would be with being compared to a large animal. Not at all.

"I was thinking of fuckface."

She looked at him in puzzled non-understanding.

"Heartbreaker?" And she understood.

"I don't really see the need to talk about it, people at my old school did enough of that." So _that's_ why she had transferred.

He ignored her.

"So, fuckface..."

"Dallas. His name is Dallas". Not that he didn't deserve the vulgar nickname.

He had never been an advocate for violence, but for some odd reason he suddenly wanted to blow that damn city up.

He had been there once.

He wasn't a fan.

And what a stupid name. Who would name their kid after a city, anyways?

Wait.

"How long we're you with him?"

"Two years...but I don't really know how long he was faithful for."

"So, he...cheated on you?" She nodded.

He knew it wasn't the whole story, but he had gotten more out of her than he could have ever dreamed of and he wasn't going to push his luck.

She was relieved. Despite the limited information she had shared with him, it was still more than what she had shared with anyone else.

And she didn't cry. Didn't even feel like it.

"How about you and...how long have you known each other?"

Why couldn't she bring herself to say her name?

"Since freshman year. I mean, we kind of have the same friends. But we only started dating after this past summer break."

He tried to sound nonchalant, like he wasn't discussing his messy love life with the person he slept with last. He would be _much_ more willing to discuss his love life if she was part of it.

But that's what friends did, though, right?

He continued. "The break was my idea. She doesn't get my need for...thinking, I guess. My friends don't, either. And my parents, they would never understand. I love my dad, but he doesn't get that I don't want to become him. That that's my biggest fear."

"What is?"

"That I turn out exactly the way everyone expects me to. Successful, bored, doing something that I don't love."

He looked at her and knew she understood.

_She_ got it.

"Enough about me, what's your dream?"

"Pickle flavored ice-cream. The best of two worlds."

He shuddered.

"You're very strange."

"Yep."

...

They walked back to the car, slowly, as if to prolong the date, wait, non-date for as long as possible.

"Some flowers for your girlfriend?"

He shook his head at the flower man. "We're not together".

"Oh, I'm sorry, you look like a couple." And right on cue, they both blushed.

They climbed into her car, the sunny day long gone and replaced by peaceful nighttime, both of them in silent agreement.

That had been the best non-date ever.

Even better than any actual date dates.

...

They said goodbye in the lobby, her soon tripping on her own feet as she was approaching the stairway.

"Think you can make it all the way up without falling?" as he helped her up.

Her eyes drowned in his.

Oh, she was falling, alright.

"Let me walk you to your door."

She didn't protest.

They got there, and he leaned in, almost on impulse, not because he kissed girls goodnight at their doors very often but because he had restrained himself from kissing her all night.

And day.

And yesterday.

He stopped short just a few inches from her red lips, her blushed cheeks almost Christmas colored in the dim hallway light. She didn't flinch, which he interpreted as a good sign. Her eyes were big, scared but expectant. And he knew, just knew, that she wanted him to kiss her.

So he did.

Not.

Because he wasn't making the same mistake again.

If they were ever to kiss again, she would have to initiate it.

He was too scared.

He had too much to loose.

He had _everything_ to loose.

She opened her door, and he had taken a few steps already when she called him.

"Austin... I mean Dimples..." Funny how his nickname hadn't quite stuck like hers.

"Yeah".

"Stay with me tonight".

What was that noise? Oh, never mind, just his heart.

Beating away like a drummer on ecstasy.

No biggie.

He thought about it.

He knew her offer meant _sleeping_ only.

It would be hours of torture, her scent in his nose, her body heat shared with him, them breathing the same air, her devine body pressed up against his...

He was suddenly a half-recovering alcoholic, stuck in the door way of not just her room, but also of a large-sized liquor store, not sure if he would be strong enough to resist the temptations once inside.

And then he entered, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep one single minute but wouldn't have it any other way.

He had always liked a challenge.

"Anything for you, Pickle".

Friends had sleepovers, right? She had had plenty of those when she was a kid.

Usually in separate beds, though.

Whatever.

She laid down, not bothering to change but kicking of her shoes.

He followed.

They were face to face, their bodies sideways and barely touching despite the narrowness of the twin bed, their mouths so close, that if he would stick out his tongue her would touch her lips.

She leaned in towards his ear, and he wasn't sure what he was hoping for or expecting, but he was definitely not expecting her to sing.

But that's exactly what she did.

The darkness provided her with the hiding cover she needed to try it out, her voice ringing in his ear during his very own, very private concert, their souls rather than their bodies intertwined in that moment, as he was blown away, both by the fact that she was willing to share something so personal with her and her talent.

Despite her own claim, she was a singer. And a talented one, at that.

The song was beautiful, the lyrics something about gravity and standing at the edge, he couldn't really focus on the words as her voice seduced him into forgetfulness, the notes making slow love to his ear drums in sweet movements.

She finished, her now quiet breath tantalizing his neck.

"That was as beautiful as I knew it would be."

The darkness prevented him from seeing her yet again blushing cheeks.

She turned around, allowing him to embrace her from behind.

"Night, Pickle", as he hugged her tight.

He was a good hugger.

A soft kiss at the back of her neck.

Funny how she had spent several nights alone in the dark, on an abandoned floor, and yet she had never been more scared than when she felt his arm around her, holding her close. In some sense, she was in more panic then when she had woken up in his bed the day prior.

Because, whether _she_ believed in it or not, sex could, at least in _theory_, be emotionless.

But intimacy was _never_.


	6. Chapter 5 - Wednesday & Willpower

**A/N; More than half way there. This break is flying by (= Hope this chapter will be worth the wait.**

**Chapter 5 - Wednesday & Willpower **

Where was he?

What was that eye piercing sunlight?

What was that eye piercing...cheetah print?

Shit, why was his cock throbbing like that?

Right.

He was in her room, in her bed.

For the first time _ever_, he was _sleeping_ with a friend.

And his most recently acquired friend's body was currently pressing up against him in some very _unfriendly_ like places. Not that he was complaining.

It was, hands down, the best sleepover he had ever had.

He had held her, fully encaging her with his much larger body until she fell asleep, him wide awake for hours, anxious like the ocean in a storm.

_Cause this was trouble. _

He had done some _very_ good thinking. It was so difficult to know what made you happy when you hadn't yet experienced it, yet so easy to recognize it once you had.

_Yeah, this was trouble. _

He had finally given in in the early morning hours, allowing her peaceful breaths to become a soothing lullaby for his by her presence wired body and mind, blissfully drifting off into sleep with the memory of her beautiful voice still ringing in his ear.

At the moment, he wasn't sure if she was still asleep. He was pretty positive that _if_ she was awake, though, she would have moved away from him as his morning wood was clearly and undoubtedly greeting her ass good morning.

It was a _good_ morning, indeed. She had been awake for a couple of hours, her usual alarm clock of the piercing sun rays fulfilling their job like unfailing, dutiful soldiers. As per usual.

_His_ soldier was apparently also reporting for duty. With a very straight posture.

His arm around her was surprisingly soft, not at all suffocating but almost reassuring.

It had been the best night of sleep she had gotten in ages.

She finally moved, reluctantly so, but her body was aching and needing to stretch, by doing so letting him know that she was, in fact, awake and inadvertently rubbing up against him in all the _wrong_ yet so very _right_ places in the process.

Completely on accident.

Or maybe not.

But what kind of friend would she be if she didn't thoroughly greet him good morning?

They laid there, well aware that the other one was awake yet unwilling, almost unable to move, the night long gone but neither of them quite ready to say goodbye to it.

She felt lightheaded, feverish, knowing that he was both the cause of and the medication for her sudden illness.

He couldn't stop himself from running his fingers over her, drawing small circles through the cloth on her back, similar to the once she had created on him with the sunblock on the beach the previous day.

Tingles. His hands on her created tingles, exploding throughout her body in fireworks of pleasurable sensations, and there hadn't even been any skin-to-skin contact. Yet.

_ Oh, oh, we're in danger._

She excused herself to go change and freshen up in the bathroom before her body once again pinned down her mind in their eternally on-going wrestling match.

He looked around. Her room was...well, a mess. Not that it was dirty, it wasn't, there were just a lot of...things. Maybe an organized mess was a more accurate description? There were stacks of books and folders, shoes everywhere, make-up and other things that girls deemed invaluable but he had no clue what they were important for fighting over space on the too few shelves, and an unhealthy amount of brushes and small boxes were situated in front of the mirror.

What the f was that on the other bed? It looked like a untamable cat had somehow mated with a flamingo, and the wild and all but eye pleasing love child was captured and made into a bed cover. The result was...baffling. But what baffled him the most was that someone had made the very questionable decision to actually purchased it.

There weren't a whole lot of pictures, but there was a small framed one on of the desks, of her and a couple and a another girl that resembled her. Her family. It was definitely taken a few years ago, as her hair was shorter and she looked carefree.

She had been pretty then.

She was beautiful now.

The room was different from his simple, not necessarily cleaner but definitely much more uncluttered, room.

Yet, he felt at home. Because it felt like _her_.

He realized that he needed to quickly do something about his morning breath, desperately searching through the shelves for some mints but only finding strawberry flavored bubble gum. Of course.

She returned, approaching him and stopping a little too close for comfort and a little too far away for his liking.

"Good morning", a shy smile on her face.

"Morning Pickle".

She could smell his breath. For some odd reason, it smelled like strawberries and reminded her of Trish. Weird. But nice. She kind of wanted to taste it. Taste him. Hmm.

"You're hungry?" her voice was not as neutral as she would have liked it to be. She was hoping he would be so that she would have a valid excuse to get him out of there. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hate grey when he was around.

He nodded. He was. And not just for her.

They journeyed towards the pantry, soon situating themselves on the all but comfy lounge sofa with the reoccurring bowl of cereal in hand.

"So, tonight is the night, huh?"

"Yeah"

"Are you nervous?"

"No" and he knew he was telling the truth. He was much more nervous sitting there on the couch with her. He _was_ a little nervous about the song he was performing, though, not because it wasn't a good one but because it was painstakingly obvious that he had written it about her.

He tried to start the TV to distract himself, but it wouldn't cooperate, just an ant war playing out on the screen. There was an old, beat-up DVD player attached to it, and that, of course, turned on.

"Let's watch a movie or something".

She shrugged. "Sure, but I don't have any".

All that crap in her room and she didn't own any movies? Unbelievable.

"I'll be right back".

He returned, not five minutes later, a smile of happiness on his face and a stack of movies in hand. Most of them she had never even heard of before. And the ones she had, she hadn't watched for years.

"What did you do, raid the dollar section at the supermarket?"

"Maybe. But these are classics that I would have paid at least the double for."

So they spent the morning watching old movies, cooped up together on the beat up coach, their arms touching, her head periodically resting on his shoulder as he was reciting some of the lines. Somewhere in between watching the criminal fall in love with the princess, and Troy and Lelaina finally proclaiming their love for each other (she almost cried a little. Come on now. It was _so_ obvious that they were more than friends), she realized that he was a romantic.

A cute romantic.

A sexy romantic.

Oh, if only she believed in love...

The end credits once again began rolling, her stomach was growling and she recalled that today, there wasn't an option of not to go to the grocery store. She was out of food. She rose.

"I have to make a run to the store. I guess...I'll see you later?"

"Can I...can I come?"

"I thought you hated the store".

He shrugged. How could he explain to her that he would do absolutely _anything_ with her, even cut his nails or go...cloud watching...and he would never, ever be bored?

It didn't sound like a super _friendly_ thing to confess.

"Beats sitting here by myself getting nervous."

He took a few steps and remembered something.

"Oh, and Pickle, I'm driving."

He walked to his room to change.

Holy crap.

He had made it.

He hadn't done anything stupid.

She was killing him, slowly, but he had survived.

Barely.

...

Apparently, his hangover the other day had calmed him down, because _today_ he drove like a just-old-enough-to-drive speed car racer with an all-consuming death wish.

"Would it kill you to go less than 90?" She was holding on to the passenger seat as if she was scared of falling out of the car.

"Would it kill you to live a little?"

She shook her head and he just laughed and sped up even further.

They started off with a joint cart, but she soon realized that he was not so secretively unloading all the things she put in there at the same rate that he was adding them, with the very-not true-reasoning that her picks were boring.

She got her own cart.

He spent 10 minutes unsuccessfully trying to convince her to by a different brand of pickles. Just because.

Then they argued, several times, over the different products as well as price and flavors of chips and the pros and cons of lemons versus limes despite none of them actually buying either of them.

He somehow convinced her to have a cart race down one of the seemingly empty aisles, she was unsure if how he did it but she was pretty certain that there were some pouting and puppy eyes involved, and then she almost ran into an old man who unexpectedly popped up at the end of the aisle and inadvertently becoming a very unwilling target. She almost hit bullseye.

She exited, pretty sure she had only managed to gather about half the things she came there for, and loudly reminding herself never to go grocery shopping with him again.

"You were right, that was fun."

And when she thought he couldn't hear her, she giggled.

...

"Can I give you a ride to the Bar tonight? I'm not drinking."

They were back at the dorm, having just put away the groceries.

She nodded. Neither was she. She could care less about Trish's rules, which quite honestly she was pretty sure she had misunderstood anyways, or making money.

She was staying sober.

They met downstairs a few hours later and she was once again wearing shorts because it was hot. Outside, that is.

...

They both greeted Kira with a smile and a hug, him soon walking away to prepare for his performance and her taking her place behind the bar.

"So how did it go with you guys the other night?" Kira's voice was teasing yet curious.

"With what? Who?" She feigned innocence.

Kira gave her a look as if she was stupid. "With you and the fucking president. You and Austin, of course".

Oh.

"You could see your guys' chemistry from, I don't know, the other side of the Atlantic ocean. I know he's on a break from his girlfriend, from what I know you're single, I just assumed...you, know, one plus one equals..."

She blushed, confirming Kira's assumption without uttering a single word.

Kira just smiled. So it had gone _exactly_ the way she had predicted.

Good.

She bartended for a few hours, the place more packed and alive in comparison to Sunday night and she found herself so busy that she didn't realize it was almost time for his performance.

Jimmy came by and let her end her shift a few minutes before he was set to start. She stepped out from behind the bar, taking a few steps before feeling an arm descending around her shoulder, at first thinking it was him, but it didn't feel quite like it, it didn't feel quite right. She looked up and her eyes landed on a tall, brown-haired man that she didn't recognize and didn't want to be familiar with.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"No, thank you, I'm..."

"She's here with me." She looked up and saw her salvation in a secular age, the savior she had not known she needed but realized she had been looking for.

He pulled her in, almost violently tugging her away from her unwanted companion before he let his lips brush against hers, softly, lovingly, _unfriendly_. His arms were around her and for a split second, ok, maybe a split minute, she wished it was real.

The other man walked away, defeated.

He was whispering against her lips. "I can't leave you alone for even short periods of time, it's crazy".

The earlier performer was finishing up, and Jimmy was signaling to him that it was his turn.

"It's time. Stay out of trouble, please."

He kissed her forehead before walking up on the small stage. For some reason, that made her blush more than the soft kiss that was still lingering on her lips.

She mouthed a "Good luck" and he gave her a thumbs up.

And suddenly, there was just him and his guitar, on top of the high barstool, the bar darkened except for a small spotlight on him and the microphone.

"This song is for a friend of mine" and his eyes bore into hers like well-aimed darts.

The first few words were a blur, she was still dizzy from his pretend kiss, but she could hear something about keeping up a guard and breaking it down. By the chorus, she was not just mesmerized but hypnotized, his beautiful voice putting her in a trance, but she could now clearly hear his words.

_No matter what you do I'm gonna steal your heart. _

His eyes didn't leave hers, as if this was a private concert much like the one he had treated her to a few days prior, the rest of the audience fading into obscurity as all he cared for was her.

And she instinctively knew that he had written it for her.

The last few notes rang out, the applause from the audience snapping her out of her trance as she barely remembered where she was at.

She knew where she wanted to be, though.

At home.

In bed.

With him.

"Oh boy." Kira was suddenly right next to her.

"What?"

"He's...he's got it _bad_. Worse than I thought. "

She raised an eyebrow at her newfound friend.

"I've never seen him look at _anyone_ else that way. He definitely doesn't look at Cassie that way. And that song..."

She almost choked on her water.

"You know complicati...Cassidy?"

"Yeah. We've known each other since freshman year. She's sweet. I knew her before Austin, actually. Im closer to Austin, now, though. "

"Oh."

She had had this weird misconception that her absent competitor was, if not the evil stepmother then at least maybe the stepsister.

But apparently, she wasn't.

She was _sweet_.

It was a weird feeling, the realization that the girl who cared for the man _she_ by now absolutely _cared_ for wasn't a complete bitch.

It had been easier to think of her as one.

"I..we...Austin and I are just friends."

Kira didn't even bother to answer, just treated her to a look that said it all.

She didn't believe her any more than she believed herself.

He approached her and she all but ran towards him, him picking her up and swirling her around in the air as if he hadn't seen her for years.

She wanted to.. she had no idea what she wanted to do. Well, she had some ideas but they were all extremely unfriendly.

So she settled for a close hug, a loud whisper in his ear.

"I have never heard anything more beautiful".

Funny, she had never seen anything more beautiful, either.

He looked happy, thrilled, drunk off of life.

He looked alive.

"I..."

A slap on the back interrupted him.

"Austin, that was amazing. Come back tomorrow and we'll discuss the next one. And be prepared to sing. Tomorrow is karaoke night." Jimmy sounded enthusiastic and they nodded in agreement before walking away, Kira smiling behind them as they exited the place together, his arm still around her shoulders, protectively, possessively, perfectly.

...

It was late, and as they were getting back at the dorm, this time around giddy off of non-artificial highs, he realized that he wasn't yet ready to say goodbye to her. Even if it was only for a few hours.

"Are you tired?", his voice hoping for a declination.

And she noticed that she wasn't.

Must be due to that good night's sleep.

She shook her head.

"Good. Let's go to the beach."

"Did you take a few shots when I wasn't paying attention? I don't like the beach. And it's the middle of the night."

"Come on, Pickle. Live a little."

Was that his new mantra or something?

He sensed her hesitation.

"When you're old and gray, with wrinkles everywhere, even your small toes, did you know that by the way? That your toes can wrinkle? So, picture it, full-blown raisin body. Is that the time to go skinny dipping? No. No it is not. For the sake of the _world_, it is not. Come on now. When would we ever have the beach to ourselves again? Think about it, when you're telling old tales to your grandchildren, don't you want to be able to say that you went skinny dipping in the ocean with a handsome stranger under the moonlit sky?"

He was rambling because he was nervous. He desperately wanted her to turn him down, yet praying for his life that she wouldn't.

He should major in freaking _persuasion_. Or puppy-eyeing.

"Fine. Let me change into my bikini."

"Skinny dipping or skimpy bikini. Your choice. I'm okay with either or. I'm not picky." Smirking. Why was it so attractive when he did that?

Their eyes interlocked. "I promise I won't let you drown", his voice sincere.

She already was.

As she walked away towards her room, he pumped his fist in the air as if he had won some sort of prize.

He looked like a dork.

...

"So how's the thinking coming along?", her voice loud in the quiet night.

"Making lots of progress. You?"

"Not thinking as much."

"Good."

They walked together towards the beach, and he grabbed her hand. If she was to question it, he would simply tell her that he was...protecting her from the...nighttime wild animals, or something.

She didn't question it.

The beach was serene, as beautiful as she had pictured it, the water almost still and the moonlight reflecting in it as if it was an enormous hallway mirror.

She undressed. "Don't peak", her voice teasing, knowing that he would because _she_ sure as heck was.

Holy mother of God.

She was suddenly not so unaffected by his bare chest.

Or his v-shape.

Or his happy trail.

Or just him, in general.

For the world of him, he couldn't understand her dislike for bikinis. It was as if they had been invented with her in mind, and she was not just the ideal model for but also the ideal model of it.

She approached the water, hesitantly, letting her toes hit the surface. It was cool but not cold. He was right behind her, ready to persuade her as he knew she probably would change her mind. She didn't _do_ water, after all.

But she didn't hesitate. She walked in, determined, as if she knew that if she didn't do it quickly, it wouldn't happen.

He followed, slower, the cooling liquid making him shiver.

He was in it knee deep. And he wasn't just talking about water.

She dove in, soon swimming, the water not cold but soothing, a balm for her muscles and her soul, the moon above functioning as a very large guiding light in the dark night.

And she shivered as she realized that _he_ was _her_ sun, ironically so due to his last name, hot and warm and full of energy. _She_ was the moon, futilely trying to hide in darkness, unsuccessfully so as his beams reflected off of her and revealed her hiding place to the world. And funny enough, when he was around, she simply didn't feel the need to hide. Nor the want.

He was standing a few yards away from her, his hair wet, some drops trickling down his by water half-covered bare chest as the moonlight was making love to his handsome facial features.

She swam up to him, him welcoming her with open arms as she wrapped her legs around his waist, the water lifting her body and making her weightless, like the current status of her heart, and her head.

No words.

They were both fully aware that they were about to play with uncontrollable fire, despite being surrounded by miles upon miles of water.

And they wouldn't have it any other way.

Their faces were close, so very close, his breath heavy and coming out in short pants through his nose, she could see that he swallowed hard when she leaned in, as if he was terrified yet thrilled, almost as if he was about to get onto the emotional roller coaster ride she was currently embarking on.

She only knew the feeling because she was currently experiencing the exact same one.

And then she kissed him because she could not _not_ do so and because there was _nothing_ in the whole wide world in that moment that she wanted to do more.

And she _continued_ to kiss him because when his lips was on her mouth, in her mouth, heaven was absolutely and undoubtedly a place on earth.

He walked them through the water towards the beach, carrying her, his tongue licking hers, thirstily drinking her in as if she was the ocean and he was dying from dehydration.

He reached for the towel, straightening in out on the sand with her still wrapped around him, putting her down on her back on top of it and blanketing her with his body, their tongues still interconnected as if there was no other state for the two of them to co-exist.

She suddenly regretted their drunken hookup even more, because kissing him mindlessly was, from what she could remember, fun, but kissing him mindfully was downright mindblowing.

They were soon rolling around on the soft sand, the sounds of their lips exploring each others the only noise in the otherwise quiet night, the grains getting all over her and sticking to her in all sorts of places and it was neither just fantastic, amazing, nor wonderful but all of the above.

Her hands were running all over his bare back and naked chest as the moon finally came out to play with the sun as the night met the morning.

He was using every ounce of willpower not to untie the side strings of her bikini bottoms and take her roughly on the sand.

Shit, he wanted to take her roughly, feel her wetness that he was sure to be present embrace him in tight, intimate hugs.

He was kissing the top of her breast, her nipple hardening and peeking through the thin material of her bikini top and he nibbled on it, lightly, her responding moan making his dick twitch against her leg.

Time to go back.

Before there _was_ no going back.

As they were making out on their way back to the dorm, she pushed him down on a nearby park bench, straddling him, her core digging into his steel hard cock, teasing him relentlessly through his low-slung board-shorts and her very skimpy bikini bottom. She was licking his neck, the salt from the ocean water mixing with the flavor of him making her moan out loud and he had to clench his fists into knuckle-whitening balls as to not push her down on the bench and animalistically fuck her brains out.

She shivered and she let him believe it was because of the breeze.

She shivered and he knew it was because of him.

Amazing.

They continued their excursion towards the dorm, and as they got there, he pressed her up against the lobby front door, not caring at all if the security guard could see them, the bottom of her hair still damp from their swim and some lingering water drops running down the glass as her head was pressed back up against it, his lips glued to hers as he couldn't get enough of her. His groans were ringing out into the spring night, echoing throughout the nearby parking lot, mixing with her moans in an unsynchronized yet breathtakingly beautiful serenade.

A slight desperation slipped into his kiss as he knew that he soon, too soon, in the matter of minutes, needed to, had to, say bye to her.

Scratch that.

It was now a matter of seconds.

He broke away, panting heavily and hardly able to speak.

"Night pickle".

And he ran into the dorm.

She was left behind, speechless but grateful.

Grateful that one of them, at least, had some sense of self-control.

She was grateful.

And incredibly horny.

...

She was in the shower, the warm water unable to wash away the images of his tongue on her.

The sand, rather than her tears this time around, blending with the hot water swirling down the drain.

And she realized that she didn't hate the beach. Didn't mind the sand.

She had just made out under the stars. In a bikini.

Way to live a little.

And as she was heading to her room, alone, she observed the undecorated hallway walls.

She had never really noticed the color before.

They were a light shade of gray.

Such a beautiful color.

...

He was in the shower, the warm water unable to wash away the images of her tongue on him.

_Ahhhhhhhh_.

And as he was heading to his room, alone, undoubtedly headed for a lengthy jerk-off session, he sighed in relief knowing that this time around, he was doing it right.

But some committee should award him a fucking honorary black-belt in willpower.

_** So there may be a few song lyrics in here (= **_

_**The next update will take a few days, I'm superbusy and life is kicking my butt.**_


	7. Chapter 6 - Thursday & T(h)rust

**A/N; So...yeah...I'm not sure what to say about this one.**

**(Whispers) This story _IS_ rated M...**

** Thursday & T(h)rust **

He was up too early as he couldn't stay asleep, his mind preoccupied with the previous night's..._events_, the images seeping into his dreams.

There were morning woods and then there were morning houses.

Today there was a morning tower.

Last night had been completely torturous yet indescribably amazing.

He still couldn't believe that he had managed to walk away from her.

_That_ was a miracle of epic proportions.

The ninth wonder of the world, even. (She was the eighth. Duh).

He was ridiculously nervous while walking down to her floor. He knew, that in difference from a few days ago, she had been sober last night, but he still had no clue as to what her state of mind was as of this morning.

He knocked on her door, softly, soon regretting his decision to go there so early as she didn't respond and he realized that she might still be asleep.

He was about to walk away when the door cracked open.

"I woke you up?"

She smiled. That was a good sign, right? "Guess so."

Funny how much good sleep she was getting as of late.

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

She couldn't think of a better way to start her day. Well, except for maybe waking up with him already in her bed.

_That_ had been pretty amazing.

His hair was still ruffled, he was wearing some old wrinkled t-shirt and he looked like he had just gotten out of bed. Which she guessed made sense as he probably had.

And yet she couldn't stop staring.

He was...he was he.

And it was a good thing.

_ Such_ a good thing.

Maybe even the best.

His whole body relaxed as he realized that she looked...happy? He couldn't be quite sure.

"Want to come in?" and he nodded, almost shyly as she opened the door wide.

Shit.

She was wearing those damn teeny tiny sleep shorts again.

Good thing he had had a full night to recharge his willpower. And good thing he didn't get to see _those_ the night before.

Because shit.

He took a seat on the pink cheetah. Reluctantly so, but there were nowhere else to sit except for her bed and he needed to stay out of that area before he turned it into another crime scene.

The material felt as weird as he had anticipated. Possibly weirder.

She mirrored his actions on her own bed, soon sitting Indian style on top of her not yet made bed comforter.

"So, I...I think..I..."

"So maybe we should..."

"Sorry. Go ahead. Ladies first".

Sometimes it was convenient to have been raised a gentleman.

Well, sort of.

Whatever.

He desperately wanted to hear what she had to say before he made a fool out of himself.

She swallowed hard. Why was she so self-conscious all of a sudden? Right, cause now there were damn feelings involved.

Crap.

"Look, yesterday was...awesome." She shook her head at the lack of appropriate wording. She didn't usually struggle with words, but the only other one that came to mind, 'heavenly', just didn't seem to fit into every day conversation.

All of a sudden, by his side, she was tongue tied.

He hesitated. "So no...regrets?" He was almost holding his breath.

"No regrets, it was...fun. And that's what spring break is all about, right?"

She was blushing and he could tell that she was growing uncomfortable.

"It sure is."

"I just...I'm not sure...let's...let's go slow, ok?" She sounded nervous.

He would rather walk slowly with her than running with anyone else. Shit, he was even willing to stand still or walk backwards as long as she was right there next to him.

"You got it". Was she able to detect the utter joy in his voice? Probably.

"So...can we start with a slow breakfast? I'm kind of over the cereal." She nodded.

"Sure, as long as I get to pick the place."

"Fine. But then I'm driving. I would like to eat breakfast before it's time for dinner".

She stuck her tongue out him for making fun of her slow driving habits.

Although he might have a point.

...

They pulled up in front of a small bookshop that he didn't recognize, most likely so due to the fact that he never went to bookstores. Not that he didn't want to. He just never had the time.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "As much as I love books, I'm freaking starving. Please tell me that they sell something to eat. "

She looked at him as if he was a fool.

He was.

A fool in love.

She ceremoniously opened the door for him. "Welcome to my..._oasis_. This is where I replenish and breath. And most importantly, read. It's my place to vicariously and momentarily live other people's dreams. And they have amazing food."

They were walking towards the small cafe area, a few scattered tables spread out in the by sunlight lit up, open space, soon ordering some breakfast from the bored cashier.

"What about your own?"

"Food? I'm not a great cook, despite that mindblowing dinner I cooked for you the other night. Sorry to break it to you, but that's my one specialty."

"I meant...dreams. Don't you want to create your own, and then live them?"

"I am. Sort of. I mean...I'm writing a novel."

She had never told anyone that before.

Why was he surprised? Of course she was writing a book.

Because she was freaking amazing.

He knew better than to ask her what the novel was about.

"How about living your dreams?"

"I...I don't really know what my dream is. I think I used to know it, but nowadays, I'm kind of terrified of dreaming. It's too easy for someone else to sweep in and steal your dream away, you know?."

Yep. All of him was hurting.

The food was delivered to the table.

"So, do you come here often?" She nodded as her mouth was full of food. She swallowed.

"Yeah. But usually by myself. I...I'm enjoying the company, though".

_Drummer on ecstasy. _

They dug in. The food was amazing. She had been correct.

He finished quickly, then rubbing his stomach as if he had just swallowed the Little Red Riding Hood.

"That was good." Wolfish grin.

"Told ya. Is it wrong that I almost miss the cafeteria, though?" She _did_. Untasty food, excessive loudness and impromptu food-eating competitions and all.

"Well, they'll be back open on Sunday afternoon. We'll go together?"

She nodded.

"Good, it's a date".

He waited for her to freeze or correct him.

But she didn't.

He observed her as she finished eating. He enjoyed it, for some reason. Enjoyed her.

"Pickle, how slow is slow?" He _had_ to ask. He was terrified of getting a speeding ticket that he couldn't afford to pay.

She was thinking. For a while. As if she knew the answer but just couldn't recall it.

He impatiently interrupted her journey into long-term memory.

"Can I take you on a date-date?"

She nodded and his heart exploded.

Not literally.

"Tonight?"

She shook her head. "The Bar? Karaoke? Meeting with Jimmy? Does any of it ring a bell?"

Right. Damn it. Any other day he would have been ecstatic at the prospect of singing or performing.

He thought for a few seconds.

"Then how about right now?"

A day date. Those were usually reserved for friends, but he didn't mind. It was actually kind of fitting for them. It wasn't necessarily traditional, but so far, their relationship or whatever it was hadn't been either.

She looked surprised but nodded, a light blush spreading on her face.

"But I...I didn't dress up or anything."

Was it wrong to tell her that he hadn't even noticed what she was wearing? He had been to busy imagining her not wearing anything.

"I...you look beautiful. As always."

Was it wrong that he thoroughly enjoyed making her blush? And that he currently was visualizing a dozen other ways of making her do so?

Good. God.

She nodded. "Ok. But you should know that I don't smooch on the first date."

Was it wrong that he wanted to do much more than smooch her?

"Neither do I. And if you call it that again you may _never_ get to kiss me".

He smacked his lips together and blew her an air kiss across the table.

...

The movie theatre was close to empty, not surprisingly so as it was midday, on a Thursday, and it was a beautiful day outside.

She picked the movie, based on the fair and accurate reasoning that he had made her watch a bunch of _his_ old movies the previous day.

At the concession stand, they argued over the benefits of popcorn versus nachos, until he defeatedly bought both and then ended up eating most of her popcorn anyways.

She had been right. The cheese _did_ taste like melted plastic.

He didn't enjoy the movie as much a the company, but he enjoyed the company enough to be willing to stay in the dark, almost-empty saloon for at least a few years.

They reached for the popcorn at a matching rate, their fingers touching and lingering numerous times, until they simply ended up holding hands.

Slow.

Right.

Hard to do when his mind was racing.

And in the dark, close to empty movie theatre, his hand intertwined with hers, he did the best thinking he had done all week.

All year.

It was simple, really.

He had been wrong.

There was no difficult decision to be made.

No excessive thinking necessary.

His choice was crystal clear and diamond solid.

_Basketball_ was easy, fun, predictable.

He knew he was good at it.

And at times he _did_ love it.

Basketball was Cassidy.

It had been a good run. Lots of fun. But he was ready to say goodbye.

_Music_, on the other hand, was fun but difficult, very unpredictable.

He was often unsure of whether he was good at it.

But he loved it always and unconditionally.

Music was Pickle.

_ She_ was his music. He didn't just love it, he lived it. Lived _for_ it.

It made him happy, alive. Just like her.

When he was with her, together was simply not close enough.

He wanted to breath her.

If he had been asthmatic, she would have been his inhaler.

A sexy-as-fuck inhaler.

He had never before felt anything like it.

It was scary as hell, because the one thing that kept him breathing was also the one thing that could instantly take his breath away.

But he didn't ever _ever_ want to say goodbye.

He reached for her and kissed her, overcome by his own emotions, _smooching_ her like there was no tomorrow, half expecting a slap in the face that thankfully never came.

They made out, slowly, unhurriedly, lengthily, hands still intertwined, until the movie was over and none of them could recall how it ended.

Did he want to fuck her senseless in the dark room?

Yes. Yes he did.

But he was pretty sure that that didn't meet her criteria for slow.

...

The bar was the busiest she had seen all week and she was grateful that she wasn't working. Kira and the other bartender seemed to have their hands full.

Jimmy greeted them like his own, long-lost children.

"So, you guys are singing Kareoke, right?"

He nodded and she shook her head, vigorously.

"We are." He sounded confident.

"_We_ are not, _you_ are". She did not.

"At least one song. Come on. I double dare you."

"Oh, yeah, _now_ I have to do it."

"Fine. Tell me what I have to do to make you do it". He was serious.

She was thinking for 10 seconds, tops.

"If I do it, you will quit the basketball team".

He smiled. _That_ decision had already been made. He just hadn't told her yet.

"Fine. And if you don't, if you _chicken_ out, I get to read your notebook."

They shook hands.

He walked away to have a quick meeting with Jimmy, and she wandered off towards the busy bar.

"Give me a shot. No tequila."

Kira raised an eyebrow.

"Rough night?"

She shook her head. "No. But if I'm going to sing a damn song with him, I need some liquid confidence. I don't dance or sing in front of people under sober conditions. Just one shot, though."

Kira smiled and lined up two small glasses in front of her.

"One for the dancing and one for the singing".

She swept both in less than a minute, at first wincing at the taste of the golden-brown liquid, but soon feeling the alcohol-induced warmth spreading throughout her body.

Good.

He returned, smiling. The meeting must have gone well.

She smiled as his was contagious.

"Take another shot with me."

Kira lined up three glasses in front of him. "You have some catching up to do."

He shrugged and reached for the first one. What else could he do? He wasn't going to let her get drunk all by herself.

He was a gentleman, after all.

...

He sang the first song by himself, as she was standing in the front of the stage, slowly swaying her body _almost_ in rhythm to the music. Liquid confidence at work.

He finished, to ear-deafening applause, and came off stage as she hugged him, tight.

"I'm your groupie". She was giggling.

"Don't say that."

"You don't want me to be?" Innocent eyes.

"More than anything. But I don't think you know just what that _entails_", his nose running along her neck, his voice a sensual whisper in her ear.

He lingered for just a second too long.

"Oh, I _do_ know." Her eyes were now meeting his, teasingly.

"Alright, Penny Lane, all you have to do is say 'please', and I will take you up against that freaking wall over there."

"I'll remember that", and she let her tongue run down his neck before turning around and walking towards the bar.

She enjoyed teasing him. And she did want to be his groupie. His _only_ groupie. With _absolutely_ all that it would entail.

Fast was the new slow, anyways.

A few songs later, and it was _their_ turn.

They walked up on the stage together, and if she was nervous, she didn't let on.

They sang together and if anyone would ask him what song they had performed, he would have had to make something up because all he could remember was the look of pure and unadulterated happiness on her face.

It was a beautiful, slow song, their voices mixing in perfect harmony as the words echoed in the packed room, her reflecting of the truth of the lyrics.

_Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all. _

And she knew things had changed, _she_ had changed, because a week ago, she would have disagreed with that statement, but now, it was her truth.

She wouldn't change her current emotions for even a _second_ of non-feeling.

_And I don't know how i can do without _

_I just need you now. _

Yep. True true true.

_Oh, baby, I need you now. _

This song was life.

Their eyes interlocked as the last note finished, and the clapping audience was the only thing that kept him from going 90 in a school zone and rip off her clothes right there on stage.

They walked off, still engaged in a staring contest as the applause went from not just deafening but ear drum breaking.

"Come back tomorrow, I want you guys to perform together. Whatever you want. Covers. Your own songs. You name it. Full set." Jimmy's voice startled her and made her lose the contest.

Just as well.

She was already losing her mind.

They stuck around for a few additional performances, before he nodded towards the door with a questioning look on his face.

She nodded, soon realizing that she had driven, not anticipating the few shots, and she knew she shouldn't be driving back.

As if he had read her thoughts, he embraced her. "Let's walk back."

She kicked off her high-heeled shoes and nodded in agreement as they exited the bar.

...

It was a relatively chilly night, considering their location, and she realized that she was still a little drunk. Not _too_ drunk, not _mindless_ drunk, just _relaxed_ drunk.

Her mind was working, just a little less dominantly than normally.

Her hand was in his and his heart was in hers, her shoes dangling from her other as they walked in the quiet night.

They enjoyed a few minutes of silence, their ears still ringing from the noise level at the bar.

All of a sudden, he had this _craving_, like he wanted to get to know her, well get to know her _better_.

"So, truth or dare?"

She giggled. "Truth". Dares would undoubtedly get her into trouble.

"When we're you the happiest ever?"

What an _amazing_ question. She had expected him to ask something juvenile or sexual.

She hesitated as she tried to find the answer. Was this exact moment an option? Walking, barefoot, carefree, as if there was nothing or no one else in the world that mattered more than him and her.

Perfection.

She realized that if today, yesterday and every day since she met him were answers A, B, and C on this improvised multiple choice test, her answer would have to be D.

All of the above.

"I...I'm still trying to figure out what happiness means to me". It was an honest answer. All she really knew was that he was to be involved in it, somehow.

He nodded. "So, do you think you'll ever believe in love again?"

"Isn't it my turn to ask you something?"

"Hush. Now answer or I will dare you to do something I've been wanting to do all night".

"What was the question again?"

He stopped and eye darted her.

"When will you believe in love again?"

"Austin...I...the love part I think...I mean...I'm pretty sure I do believe in that. It's not really like you choose it anyways. It's the _trust_... I, I'm not sure...I'm kind of messed up and I don't know how long it will take before I'm ready for anything serious again."

He nodded, not knowing what to say, surprised at her honesty.

So he may be well on his way to steal her heart, but he now had to find a way to break into the vault hosting her trust. It would be difficult, he knew that, as he was unsure of the exact location of it and had absolutely no training in nor experience of the correct methods for such a coup. And to make matters worse, somebody else, _Dall_-_ass_, had selfishly used up most of her stash.

But he was going to do it anyways.

One way or another.

"Now, it's too late for philosophical crap. Just ask me the usual, predictable, sexual questions and get it over with. I know you want to."

He smirked. "Favorite sexual position?"

"I guess thats for you to find out." Now _she_ was the one smirking.

Hard.

Slow. Slow slow slow.

They were about ten minutes away from the dorm when the rain ambushed them. It came out of nowhere and startled them both.

It was Spring Break.

In Florida.

It wasn't supposed to _rain_.

"I really wish we had an umbrella", and she was laughing as the large rain drops splattered down her face as he gave her a weird look.

Almost as if he was scared.

They ran and took cover under a large tree, him holding her as she was shivering, not just from the rain.

Oh, he liked to make her shiver shiver.

And when she was close to him he shivered.

As he lost the feeling in his fingertips.

She looked at him, and his eyes, golden-brown like the whiskey she had flowing through her veins, were piercing hers, making her feel almost as if _he_ was flowing through her.

It was amazing to her how he seemed to see right into her core, and even more amazing that he seemed to like what he saw.

His white t-shirt was sticking to his body like a second skin, she could see the outline of his defined abs and, fuck, she wanted to _lick_ him. His wet hair was demanding to be pulled, the raindrops sticking to his long eyelashes like morning dew on leaves, beautiful, and she knew she was imagining things but she swore she could almost see his heart beating out of his chest.

She knew he wouldn't have to steal her heart, she was seconds away from willingly handing it to him, on a silver platter, had it not been that he already was in possession of, if not the whole thing, at least a majority of it.

Suddenly, not just her mind but her _life_ was grey, as if she was stuck in an old movie, the color ranging in shades from light to as dark as the rain heavy clouds in the night sky above. If she looked closely, there might even be 50 different shades of grey.

Her make-up had smeared, and he was involuntarily reminded of the first time they'd met. It was hard to believe that this smiling woman was the same girl that he had met in the girl floor pantry 5 days ago. Shit, it had only been 5 days.

The best 5 days of his life.

And he kissed her because God damn it how could he not, and as they were making out under the big tree, in the pouring rain, their mouths wetter than the ground below, she knew that he was no superman but he was undoubtedly changing her world, and despite their soaked clothes and the unusually cold spring night, they both knew that it didn't get better than this.

The rain turned into a drizzle, after who knows how long, and they walked back to the dorm, at her preferred speed, slow, both of them drenched, her in more places than one.

He must have been rubbing up on her, because all of a sudden she wanted to speed.

And she ran the last few hundred yards to the dorm.

...

He walked her to her room, because he was, wait for it, a..._gentleman_.

"I'm going to take a shower". He nodded.

"Good night, Pickle", a soft, restrained kiss on her cheek before he turned and walked away.

"Austin, I...I might need some help to clean my back..."

He turned around and looked at her in disbelief, not answering as he was apparently hearing things. Damn whiskey. He hadn't known that he was that drunk.

"I...join me in the shower."

As _if_ he wasn't.

His heart was _bouncing_, almost as if he failed to slow down when driving over a big, partially hidden speed bump.

The emotions were the same.

Scared, surprised, thrilled.

He swallowed hard. He could do this. He could shower with her while staying within the speed limit.

She grabbed a couple of towels from her room, then leading the way to the showers.

She turned it on, the steam from the warm water shooting up into the air, filling the stall before she got undressed.

"No peeking. Close your eyes". And he complied.

Not 10 seconds later, her mouth was on his, her hands running over his wet clothes and removing them piece by piece before stepping into the hot water, pulling him with her.

She was naked. In front of him. And he no longer had a brain and he was about to lose his license.

The tower from earlier this morning was back. It seemed that a few extra levels had been added during the day.

He kissed her, or maybe molested her mouth, he wasn't sure.

And then she decided to _explore_ the tower, maybe she was interested in the view, and he couldn't remember where he was as the sensation of her touching him overtook his world. It was the best hand-job he had ever had and it had yet only lasted for a few seconds. And at this rate, it would only last a few seconds longer.

Shit.

His hands were on her, his fingers in her, and _yes_, it was going too fast and _yes_, he clearly hadn't learned his lesson, but shit, she was his _one_ weakness and his tank of willpower was not just low but fucking _empty_ and to top it all off, it seemed as if she had lost her gas card, too, or maybe her breaks weren't working correctly, because she wasn't stopping him and there was no way he was going to unless she asked him.

She leaned in and whispered something in his ear, a loud whisper, one simple word.

He expected STOP.

"Please."

And then he took her up against the shower stall wall.

It may not be as romantic as he had wanted, nor as sweet, and he made a quiet promise to himself that he was going to do it right.

Next time.

_ This_ time was raw and needy and amazing and he knew that the possibility of another stint in the prison of shame was more than likely lurking around the corner, but in the moment it was so worth it, just to be allowed another stint in _her_.

To his defense, he was taking it slow.

At first.

Savoring her one _slow_ thrust at a time, each movement creating whimpers of bliss from the female part of their now one body.

And then he was taking her hard, and the whimpers turned into full-blown moans as he was pumping her, her back rubbing up against the stall wall, her legs wrapped around him, and he let go of all sense of mph, growlingly making her cum, her pussy vibrating around him, her hands pulling on his hair and he unloaded deeply inside of her as the tear-free water swirled down the drain.

...

They fell asleep in her room, intertwined, him relieved as he knew she couldn't sneak out from her own room.

Right?

Just in case, he held her tight.

And then, when he knew she was fast asleep, he whispered a quick "I love you" into the clutterness.

He knew she was nowhere _near_ ready for that, and that he wasn't just speeding but breaking the fucking sound barrier, and if she would have heard him, she wouldn't only ask him to slow down, but most likely put indefinite, permanent breaks on their entire relationship.

Yet, he needed to put it out there.

Just for the universe to know and work its magic.

...

_**Thanks for your song suggestion, Lucy.**_


	8. Chapter 7 - Friday & Fear

**A/N; Spring break is almost over! Well, mine's been over. Whatever.**

** I'm not bitter. **

**Chapter 7 - Friday & Fear **

He woke up scared.

Sweating, as if a wild lion was chasing him throughout a darkened prairie, and despite his own agility, the predator was catching up to him, about to capture him and inescapably swallow him alive.

He was terrified.

Not from nightmares, his dreams had been more than pleasant.

That is, for the few hours that he had actually slept.

Just like a relapsing smoker who had recently quit, he hadn't been able to have just one drag of his poison. She was apparently not just his air but also his nicotine.

And he was already ready for another cigarette. Or possibly even the whole damn pack.

He had woken her up in the middle of the night for round two, her teeny tiny sleep shorts sleeping on the floor for the rest of the night, as he was making her scream and shout, to the point where it would have kept her roommate and probably the rest of the dorm up at night, turning her bed into another crime scene in his sexual slaughter spree.

He wouldn't mind having the whole damn dorm closed off for investigation.

No, no, he wasn't scared from nightmares.

The fear was of her current state of mind.

Was he going back to prison? Perhaps a half-way house? He wasn't quite sure. His sentence was yet to be determined, and his judge was still sound asleep, not next to but under him.

He was hoping, praying, for a few hours of community service, hopefully to be served with her by his side.

Or with him inside her.

Whatever worked.

...

She woke up and he was on her, not just embracing but fully blanketing her.

Like a cage.

As if she was a wild lion.

He may drive her wild, but she was a domesticated beast.

She enjoyed being captured.

It was funny, really, because in reality, he was unknowingly a reversed cage, protecting the lion from the world and not the other way around.

She lingered for a few minutes, his body heat not just keeping her warm but making her blood boil.

Hot.

In a very good way.

Her mind drifted off, back into the midnight hours when he had made her his again.

That had been _some_ night.

When he was on her, in her, her heart felt whole, almost as if there were no cracks in there.

She turned around, facing him, at first with a neutral expression on her face as she was trying to decipher what her head was thinking. _If_ she was thinking.

Nope, seemed pretty quiet. No dominating voice of regret.

"Good morning, Pickle", a hoarse whisper in her ear.

And he felt his imaginary chains of captivity burst broken as she looked at him and smiled.

Genuinely, happily, blissfully.

The smile that dreams were made of.

At least his dreams.

The smile of freedom.

He kissed her, lightly, lovingly, non-expectantly.

She rose and got out of bed, reluctantly so but the restroom was calling. The sun rays were reflecting in her hair, creating natural highlights and making her skin glow. She looked so perfect standing there, in her teeny tiny underwear. He couldn't tear his eyes away. He wanted to be stuck in this vacuum of time, letting this very moment continue on forever. She looked carefree, beautiful, the smile on her face one of satisfaction yet a hint of self-consciousness soon creeping in as she realized that he was observing her. Or rather, devouring her with his eyes.

Damn nicotine. So darn addictive.

"So last night was...fun. I mean...maybe...it was great, you know...I had a good time and..."

_Tongue tied. _

She was rambling.

It was adorable.

She was quiet for a minute, as if she was trying to untangle her jumbled thoughts.

"Can you do me a favor?"

He nodded, hoping for one of sexual nature.

"Can you drive me to pick up my car?"

...

He drove her to the bar, instantly reminded of a few days ago when he had done the exact same thing. Only a short period of time had passed, and it was the exact same route, yet it felt as if he was driving towards a brand new location, as Shame-city and Lover-ville were located miles apart. Almost in different worlds. She leaned in and kissed him, swiftly, before stepping out of the car.

Holy hell, he wanted to take her in the backseat.

...

She knocked on his door a few hours later, using an improvised picnic in the park as an excuse for seeing him, in case he would be bothered by or question her by now almost constant presence.

He didn't question her presence, he internally celebrated it. With fucking fireworks.

Truth be told, he was having a difficult time concentrating.

He was trying to write but he was stuck. On her.

Jimmy had offered him to perform at the Bar every night for the rest of the week, doing whatever songs he wanted. It would be a great opportunity to try out some new ones. If he had had any. The problem wasn't that he didn't have any motivation, it was that he had _too_ much inspiration. He didn't know where to start, his head was bubbling with lyrics yet nothing came together.

"Want to go for a walk? Lunch in the park?" She was dangling the plastic bag that she had brought with her in in front of his face, as if using the prospect of food to lure him to agree. As if that was necessary.

He noticed that she was carrying her notebook in the other hand.

"You're going to write?"

She nodded.

"Do you mind if I bring my basketball and shoot a few hoops? I usually think, and write, better after exercising. Maybe we can have lunch by the court?"

There were other types of exercises he surely preferred but that wouldn't help him. In fact, that's probably what had gotten him bubbleminded in the first place. And he needed to clear his head. If that was even possible when she was around.

She nodded. Did she _mind_? She almost had to stop the drool from seeping out of her mouth from the mere thought of him sweaty and panting and... No. The answer was no. She did not _mind_.

The nice, south Florida weather had once again returned, a few small puddles on the still close to abandoned parking lot the only sign of last night's rain storm.

They walked in silence, letting the light breeze soothe their slight hang-overs.

A day like this was when he questioned anyone who had made the decision to live anywhere else. It was beautiful, mother nature at its absolute finest. He could almost smell the future in the air, he could feel it everywhere, almost as if it was not just a spring breeze but a wind of change.

They passed the dining hall on their way.

"Only two more days until we get to savor their fine cuisine again."

She laughed, but her laughter got stuck in her throat as she processed his words.

Shit, the week was almost over.

The break was almost over.

Her week of non-thinking and his week of heavy thinking was coming to an end.

Soon.

_Complication_ would be coming back.

Other people would invade their fragile bubble of bliss. And possibly, _probably_, pop it. Because after all, that's what bubbles did. After living for a short period of time, blissfully floating in the air, they popped, breaking into nothingness, leaving a space that only those who saw the bubble in the first place would be able to label as empty.

She hadn't asked him anything about it. Mostly because she was fearful of the answer. But she desperately wanted to, needed, to know.

Fuck it.

This was the week of overcoming fears, after all.

"When is _Barbie_ coming back?"

Her voice sounded as weak as she felt.

Shit.

Right.

Barbie.

"Sunday."

He hadn't responded to any of her text messages or calls. It had been quiet for the first few days, her undoubtedly trying to punish him. When that didn't work, she had sent several messages per day until she finally caved in and called, leaving a few drunken voice mails that were still left unreturned.

He knew he was an ass.

It was just, he didn't know what to say to her.

Any lose ends that may have been there had inadvertently been tied up the second he met Pickle. Tightly tied up. As if a boy scout troop that he had never been a part of had visited to practice before competing in and ultimately winning a tie-knotting competition.

A text message just didn't seem to be the correct way of telling her that the break was undoubtedly and non-discussingly permanent.

She didn't say anything else. He knew she was thinking and he was fearful of what.

She settled on a small patch of grass adjacent to the outside court.

She quicklyrealized that she had brought her book but nothing to write with.

"Did you bring a pencil?"

He rummaged through his bag, pulling out a permanent marker. "I've got a Sharpie."

"Who writes with a Sharpie, you can't erase anything or make any changes."

He shrugged. "Once I like something enough to write it down, I won't erase it anyways."

"What if I make a mistake?"

"Scratch it out".

"That will look ugly".

He shrugged again. "Then don't make any mistakes."

And she reached for the marker.

She was starting to believe that she maybe, after all, had been mistake free since she met him. Their first night together started to look more and more like a necessary intervention, an unconventional form of shock-therapy for her body contact phobia. And apparently an effective one as she had gone from terrified to obsessed with the feeling of his skin against hers in the matter of a few days.

She had brought an old bed sheet that functioning as a blanket, pretending to focus on her writing but sneaking eyefuls of him as he was engaging in an intense basketball game against himself.

He noticed. And he really didn't mind.

"Come! Play with me!"

Oh, he wanted her to play with him. And he wanted her to come, indeed.

She looked at him as if he was a stranger. "In case it wasn't clear, I'm not athletic. Like, at all."

"I'll show you how to do it".

Oh, she knew he could show her how to _do_ it.

She was still reluctant.

"Come on! What are you so freaking afraid of? That the ball will hit you in the head?"

She was soon on the court and his arms were wrapping around hers as he demonstrated how to shoot.

She missed. And missed. And missed again.

And then she made her first basket. And neither of them had ever cheered as loudly before.

"Let's eat." He was starving.

She couldn't finish her food.

There was _eating_ and _sweat_.

_Two_ fetishes at the same time.

Two fetishes that probably shouldn't mix.

But still.

Too much to handle.

Too hot to handle.

He finished and leaned in to hug her, pushing her down on the flower patterned sheet _completely_ by accident as she was trying to push him off.

"Eww, you smell". She was pretending to sound disgusted. As if she could ever be disgusted by him.

"You know you like it" And he embraced her, kissing her, soon making out with her, him forgetting all about the sure to be delicious food and her forgetting all about his smell, which quite honestly, he had been correct about. She did like it.

He broke away, sitting back up before he would hit the point of no return and take her in the park in broad daylight for anyone walking by to see.

He ran his fingers through his hair. "So, are _we_ performing tonight?" His voice was pleading before she had even answered.

He didn't _expect_ her to perform with him, he knew she had taken those shots the previous night to gain courage and he wasn't going to make her do that again.

Didn't mean he wasn't going to try to convince her to do it sober, though.

She shook her head vigorously. "Nope."

Ok. He got it. Kind of. He knew she loved it, he had seen her face the previous night. But he also knew she was scared.

"At least help me write another song. _Pleeeeaaaassssssse_."

She looked hesitant. "I'm kind of a perfectionist when it comes to lyrics and we don't have much time."

"Don't you have something laying around in that notebook of yours?"

"Maybe. But I'm not really sure of what you're looking for."

He thought for a minute. "I only see one solution. Let me read your notebook".

She didn't even bother shaking her head, just looked at him with the face of a scolding mother.

"Come on, what's the worst that could happen? Your worst fear?"

"That you'll laugh and tell me that all my lyrics are ridiculous."

"Ok, so I promise not to do that."

"Yeah...no. Not going to happen".

He thought for another minute. "Ok, let's bet."

She was already shaking her head. She was not falling for this again.

He added puppy eyes.

Shit.

She could feel her determination falter a little more with each of his eye battings.

He walked away from her, soon walking off the small court and standing a few years behind one of the baskets.

"I give you a good one. If I make it, you let me read your book." He pointed towards the far away basket.

"And if you don't make it? Sorry, _when_ you don't make it?"

"I'll switch my major to music".

That was fair. There was _no_ way he was going to make that shot. And she couldn't think of anything else that would make her happier than him pursuing his dream.

She nodded and he didn't hesitate, throwing the ball almost as if he wasn't aiming, forcefully, and she watched in disbelief as the ball flew through the sky and landed perfectly inside the non-net metal ring.

And he looked at her in disbelief because he knew that that was a once in a life time shot and he had not expected to make it.

"You get five minutes" as she handed him the book, her hands shaking a little.

"Im doing it because i am a woman of my word. It's not because I...trust you. "

But it was.

"I know you don't"

But he knew she did.

He hesitated for a moment, knowing that this was something monumental. He was going to reach her _book_.

And then he dug in.

Her fear of him laughing was ridiculously unfounded as there wasn't much in there to laugh about. Her handwriting was neat, but periodically difficult to read, as if she hadn't been seeing clear and he unwillingly pictured her writing some of the pieces while crying. If he looked closely, he could almost see the rings of the dried up tear drops on the thin paper. The beginning of the book was...dark. He flipped the pages, instinctively knowing that she would prefer him to read toward the end of the book. The darkness faded with each page.

She was watching him read and simultaneously observing a construction site. A house was being built. A teeny tiny cardhouse of _trust_. Small, fragile, one small wind gust and it would crumble. But a house nonetheless, and another card was added for each page that he finished with an adoring smile of approval on his face.

And then he found it. A song. _The_ song.

He didn't know when she had written it, but there was no way it wasn't about him. It felt as if it was written not just about him, but for him. Because it reflected him and his emotions flawlessly.

"Sing this one with me tonight." and he pointed to the book.

Head shake.

"What can I do to get you to perform with me? Just one time. Just one song. One more song and I'll move on, I promise."

She was still shaking her head. It was starting to hurt.

"Come on, we are so good together. You know it. You know that we are better together." She couldn't deny that.

A look of resolution colored his face. "You know what? No more bets. Just do it because you know you love it and because I'm asking you too. Do it because you don't want to waste any more time being scared."

She was no longer sure he was just talking about the performance.

Neither was he.

After a few minutes of doing what she did best, namely excessively think, she smiled and nodded I agreement. "If you change your major".

For the first time, he hesitated. "My dad will be pissed".

"So?"

She was right. There, on the small, beat-up basketball court, he realized that his biggest fear wasn't his father, nor ending up like him. His biggest fear was to lose her.

And umbrellas.

But mostly the first one.

He wouldn't mind being successful, bored, doing something he didn't love as long as, at the end of the day, he would come home to her. A minute, heck a second, per day of her and he would still be less bored than anyone else.

He would even consider working at an umbrella factory.

If he had too.

"Ok, Ill do iT. But you have to perform sober." And then he kissed her, because _she_ was obviously the one who had a way with words and he had no clue as to how he could convey his feelings for her in plain spoken language. So he spoke with his tongue. Until the rest of his body wanted to speak to her, too, and he had to break away before he was giving her a full-blown speech on body language.

He played for a few more minutes before jogging over towards her.

"Ready to head back?" and she started to pack up her things.

They started walking and he sighed. "That was fun, I'm going to miss it".

"You're not quitting the team just because I sang with you, right?"

He shrugged. "A bet is a bet, I'm a man of my word." And he really meant that.

She looked guilty and he broke out laughing.

"I had already made up my mind before we performed last night."

Her guilt turned into mock anger.

"So you tricked me?"

He shrugged.

"That's not fair".

"All is fair in love and war".

They continued walking, him periodically bouncing the basketball on the pavement with one hand and holding her hand with his other.

"Do you regret not going somewhere for Spring Break?" She sounded nervous, as she in some ridiculous way was expectimg him to answer yes.

Could he tell her that she was his getaway, that she was his favorite place?

There was nowhere he would rather be.

"I got the drinks, the music, the partying, the food, the...sex, the beach, the midnight swimming. But most of all, I have got the _best_ company. So no, I don't regret staying, because this has been the best spring break ever. Best week ever. "

All she could do was nod in agreement as he pulled her into yet another kiss.

"Oh, by the way, my sister is coming to watch me perform tomorrow night. I want you to meet her".

She nodded, almost as if she was frightened.

Guess she was nervous about meeting his family.

They were almost at the dorm when she spoke again.

"I have a new nickname for you." She had just thought of it.

"What's wrong with Dimples?"

"Doesn't fit you, it's too cute."

He smiled. Revealing dimples. That were too cute.

"So what is it?"

"Sharpie" and he laughed, her letting him believe that it was because of his preferred tool of writing.

But it wasn't.

It was because _he_ was permanent. She couldn't erase him even if she had wanted to.

...

The bar was packed, as was to be expected for a Friday night.

She had agreed to sing one song with him, her song, it would be the last one of the set and she was already shaking from nerves.

They had practiced it in the girls lounge for the last few hours. She had felt confident there. Not so much here.

_No liquid courage. No liquid courage. No liquid courage. _

He had given Kira clear instructions not to serve her any alcohol.

Even if she threatened her.

Or offered to pay her large sums of money.

He took the stage, and she was unable to focus as she was too nervous. She was positive that the performance was amazing, because he was amazing, but she really couldn't recall.

And then it was time.

And she couldn't move.

He walked off the stage, doing his specialty of eye darting her. Bullseye.

"We worked too damn hard for this just to give it up now."

"I know, but..."

"If you don't swim, you'll drown. And I know first hand that you're an excellent swimmer".

"But I don't want to swim".

"Yes, you do. No more fear, remember?"

And he reached his hand out.

And after a few seconds that felt like hours, she took it and joined him on stage.

He strummed the first few notes on the guitar, and she forgot about everything except for him and her, getting lost in the nirvana that was music. Her music. _Their_ music.

And once again, the truth of the lyrics hit her.

_When you're on your own _

_Drowning alone _

She wasn't drowning. She was swimming.

_And when you're afraid _

_That you're gonna break _

She wasn't breaking anymore, either.

_And even when it hurts the most _

_Try to have a little hope _

She did have hope. He was standing right next to her.

He was her shoulder, her smile, her sky, her ladder, her road, her anything-you-need.

And as her eyes met his, she was hit by two realizations.

One, she kind of, maybe, perhaps, had fallen for him. Hard.

And two, she was more scared of _him_ than of anything else.

Her instinct was telling her to run and hide. Love was a battle, the survival of the fittest, fight or flight and, like a scared bird, she enjoyed flying. But for once, she wanted to ignore her instinct. Maybe she was more of a lion, after all. She was determined to stick around and check out the cage. And improve her fighting skills.

The fragile cardhouse suddenly seemed sturdier, as if the base had been strengthened as a few more floors had been added.

And at the end of the song, their lips we're on each others before the massive applause had even began to simmer down.

...

They walked towards to his room, hand in hand, as if there was no question whether they were to spend the night together. The door had all but closed behind them before he was kissing her, slowly, deeply, all his senses on high alert, as he was indulging in her by tasting her, watching her, hearing her, smelling her, feeling her. Skin to skin had never been so agonizing yet so perfect.

He outlined her clothing with his lips, his tongue setting her body on fire as he removed them piece by piece, until she was naked, trying to control her breathing but failing completely.

He gently pushed her down on the bed, his tongue trailing all over her, languid licks in a chain-like fashion as he engaged in a slow-motion relay-race across her body.

Tonight, he wasn't a sprinter but an eager excursionist, willingly touring her landscape, lingering over the hills, his fingers traveling through her valleys, to her lake...

She returned the favor. He was her map and she was joyfully exploring new paths to her preferred destinations. Using both her hands and her lips.

And when none of them could hold back anymore, he entered her, slowly, her hips meeting his with every move, deeply, intimately, heavenly, for god knows how long but yet too short as it didn't last forever.

They came undone together, her name not a scream but a loving whisper from his lips as he released himself into her orgasmic pussy.

...

He was snoring, lightly, his chest heaving behind her, occasionally pressing into her back and making her feel alive, almost as if his heart was pumping hers as well.

She was smiling, because whether he knew it or not, she had just made love to him.

And when she was positive that he was fast asleep, she whispered a quiet "I love you" into his ear, nowhere near ready to say it to him and not at all expecting him to feel the same.

But she needed him to hear it. One way or another.

And then she couldn't go to sleep.

Because she was still scared.

Terrified, even.

He had finally done it _right_ and now, she had only one fear _left_.

She was starting to develop an unhealthy phobia of tornados.

Tornados that would not just break the now high-reaching, fragile cardhouse of trust, but also scatter the cards around the world and making reconstruction impossible.

And she had an odd premonition that the next few days would be windy.

Perhaps, even stormy.


	9. Chapter 8 - Saturday & Storms

**A/N; I don't even know...I had a really hard time with this one. Think I'm sticking to smut from now on.**

Chapter 8 - Saturday & Storms

She awoke in her cage that felt like home and smelt like him.

No words.

The feeling was so new, yet so perfect that she once again found herself short on appropriate wording.

Or maybe she could come up with just one.

Paradise.

As a loud noise from outside had woken her up, she reluctantly disentangled herself from their twizzler bodies and snuck a peek out the window.

It was a beautiful day outside. Calm. Not even a breeze. Completely storm free.

More and more cars were starting to reappear in the parking lot. The driver of one of them apparently did not see the humongous light-post and backed right into it. Nice. Good way of ending the break.

She hurriedly climbed back into his bed, unable to think of any other place in the freaking galaxy where she would rather be. She giggled as she ran her now cold feet over his much warmer legs. He mumbled something incoherently, as he was pretending to still be asleep.

"Good morning Sharpie."

He embraced her again. Because he had to. Really. It wasn't a choice.

"Im not sure I'm sold on that name."

"Ok, fine, Mr. Moon."

He tried to push her away. Well, not really. It was mostly for dramatic effect.

"Don't call me that, it reminds me of my dad."

Right. His dad. She could tell that his mood changed instantaneously.

"When are you gong to tell him about your...changes?"

Good question. When _was_ he going to tell his father that he, in one week's time, had decided to not just change his major, and thereby making in painstakingly clear that he was not contemplating working for him, but that he also was quitting the basketball team to pursue music instead. Oh, and he was deeply in love with someone who was, at least for what everyone else knew, not his current girlfriend.

Amazing, mind boggling even, that he was procrastinating that conversation.

"I don't know. I think I'm just going to hide here, under the covers, for forever."

If she would agree to stay with him, he really wouldn't mind.

"What's holding you back? No more fear, remember?" She was trying to sound as convincing as he usually did. She was probably only half-way successful as he was now fully covered by the comforter.

"You haven't met my father." Yet.

"Be brave. All you need is some courage." and she ripped the covers away from his face.

He laughed. "Easier said then done, now, isn't it?"

She nodded and they spent a few minutes in thoughtful silence.

Amazing how thinking was so much nicer with her in his arms.

Amazing how thinking was so much nicer in his arms. She couldn't recall why she had ever hated it.

She suddenly giggled. "I know why you're last name is Moon."

"Aha?"

"Because you're out of this _world_."

He laughed although he had heard the joke too many times to count, because he had never enjoyed it as much as when it came from her.

And she was laughing, uncontrollably, and it was amazing and he didn't ever want it to stop.

She recovered after a few minutes.

"Austin?"

"Yeah..."

"Someone like you only come around once in a blue _moon_." Another round of ridiculous giggles. He couldn't help but start, too, because she was freaking contagious. He didn't mind getting infected, though.

She was laying there, under him, still breathing hard from the intensive giggling that had now stopped.

"Pickle, are you ticklish?" "No."

And he tickled her because he already knew her well enough to know when she was lying. That, and he wanted to touch her. Everywhere.

His ear drums were just as in love with her giggles as he was with her.

And he realized that she was a band-aid of sorts, because despite no boo-boos he wanted her on him, wanted to feel her against his skin, since she made everything better.

He kissed her.

Continuously.

One love, two mouths.

How was it possible, that in one week, he had already forgotten life before her. He couldn't remember what he was ever thinking of before last Saturday. And he didn't miss it one bit.

He was pushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "I...like you." It was probably the understatement of the year, but shit, what else could he tell her? He had met her a _week_ ago. Oh, and she made him _weak_, too.

She nuzzled into him, smiling, because in that moment he was no longer a cage, but her home. So more like a house.

"I...like you too".

Good.

"Tomorrow night, you and me, a real date." It wasn't a question.

His hands were suddenly running all over her body. The goose bumps started to raise the minute that his left hand met her waist, spreading throughout the rest of her body as a herd of galloping wild horses, and she answered his non-question with her lips, thereby kick starting another few hours of christening the newly built house.

One love, one house.

And they spent the rest of the morning in their house. In the bedroom of their house.

No shirt, no blouse.

And no other clothes either, for that matter.

...

It was near lunchtime when they finally got out of bed, him reaching for his vibrating phone, and she flinched albeit just internally.

Complications. Lurking in the darkened shadows, soon to enter the bright sunlight.

"My sister just let me know that she couldn't make it tonight, but she'll be coming for lunch". He hesitated. "Do you want to join us?" He really, really, really wanted her to. Partially because he wanted her around pretty much 24/7, possibly with a few, short bathroom breaks, and partially because he really wanted her to meet his sister. He knew she would be hesitant, as it was probably to soon to meet the family. After all, she had just met him a week ago. A life-time long week ago.

He smiled as she nodded, but she looked nervous, like a deer in headlights.

"Don't worry. She will love you. You will love her."

She nodded again. How could she explain to him that that was for some reason exactly what she was afraid of?

...

He pulled her into a kiss before entering the lunch restaurant, almost as if he could sense her nervousness and was trying to replace it with some sort of courage. Not liquid.

He hesitated right in front of the entrance, stalling as if trying to find the right words.

"My sister can be kind of...blunt, I guess, but please give her a chance, she's...awesome."

And she swallowed hard as she realized just how important it was to him for the two of them to get along.

They were seated at the outside patio, the leaves in the nearby trees moving a little in the small breeze while waiting for his sister to arrive.

A short while later, she appeared, only a few minutes late and panting as if she had been running to get there. He introduced them with a small smile on his face.

"Anna, this is my Ally". His sister gave him a very curious look upon hearing his possessiveness. Pickle didn't seem to notice.

"Ally, this is my sister Anna". She looked as if in shock and he looked at her funny. "Sorry. Its just...that's _my_ sister's name as well."

His sister smiled and extended her hand. She was pretty, not as blonde as her younger brother but there was definitely a resemblance there.

"Ally, so nice to meet you. Wishing I could say I've heard so much about you, but then I'd be lying."

She laughed.

Honesty.

She liked it. Loved it, even.

And she liked-loved his sister already.

They ordered their drinks, small talking about school and Anna's drive over there. His concern with them not getting along proved to be ridiculous. His sister was him, minus the insane attraction and the distraction of wanting to touch her.

Easy-going, fun. Energetic. Magnetic.

"So what is _this_?" She motioned her finger between the two of them. They both blushed.

"We are...friends." He was sounding convincing, right?

"Aha. And I just won the fucking lottery."

"Anna, don't start."

"Ah, come on. Its just...I think you can feel the, I don't know, chemistry I guess, from the other side of the road. And you have a disgusting puppy-love smile on your face, as if _you_ just won the lottery, or hit the jackpot, or maybe hit Ally's jackpot, if you know what I mean..."

He interrupted her. It was kind of necessary. And he _did_ know what she meant.

Truth was, he had hit her jackpot, as recently as a couple of hours ago. Several times. He was today's big winner, indeed.

"Maybe its because I'm happy." He shrugged, an almost shy smile on his handsome face.

Anna smiled. "So, how long have you guys been...friends?"

"A...week." He was annoyed at how insignificant that sounded. It was difficult to make anyone else understand that it might as well have been a year, or a decade, or an eternity.

"Oh, I see. Well, I'm just happy you got rid of bimbo."

She almost choked on her drink. Oh, so his sister had a nickname for Barbie as well. Interesting.

He gave his sister a murderous look.

"I'm sorry, I meant Cassidy." She giggled. He gave her another look that she either didn't get or simply chose to ignore. "Wait, you have broken up, right?"

"I..." he was blushing again. "We're on a break" and his eyes weren't just stabbing hers, they were murdering them.

"Oh...I never really understood that in between thing." She shrugged.

"There's no in between, it will be completely over once she gets back into town." He sounded angry.

"So, you're broken up, permanently, but she doesn't know it yet?"

When she put it that way, it didn't sound great. Mostly because it was the truth.

Luckily, it seemed like Anna finally caught on to his reluctance, as she changed the topic to his embarrassing childhood stories and then the food arrived.

"So, I'm quitting the team." He sounded serious, as if he was telling her that some close relative was dying from an odd, incurable disease.

"Why?" She sounded upset. As if some close relative was dying from an odd, incurable disease.

"I lost a bet."

"To who?"

"To her." He nodded towards his Pickle.

"Did you do this? Made him completely change his life around?"

Her eyes, so similar to his, were suddenly not as friendly.

"What? No, I mean I..."

His sister got out of her seat, walking around the table towards her, him with an unreadable expression on his face and she had no clue of what was going on.

And then Anna hugged her, a huge smile on her pretty face.

"Ally, I just met you, but I think I love you."

He had always had some sort of connection with his sister, them being only a year apart and practically growing up as twins, but he had never felt as connected to her as in that moment, as she was speaking the words that he was still too scared to do.

"I don't know how you convinced him, pretty sure I don't want to know, but nothing has made me happier." She went back to her seat. Still smiling.

"So, only one obstacle left." He nodded.

She felt stupid but she had to ask. "Sorry, but what's that?"

"Dad", they both answered in unison.

She nodded. Right.

One hour and a delicious meal later, they said goodbye in the parking lot, his sister pulling her in to a big hug before climbing into he car, semi-whispering in her ear.

"I know you guys have something good going. It's disgustingly obvious. My brother is usually easy going, but I don't know if I have ever seen him this happy before. Please don't break his heart."

And all she could do was nod as she hugged her goodbye.

He had been right.

She _did_ love his sister.

...

She seemed somber on the way back.

After a few minutes of almost depressing silence, he had to speak to her.

"What's wrong? Am I driving too fast?"

She shook her head. "I loved your sister."

He smiled, because he knew that she would. There was no way that his two favorite people in the whole wide world _wouldn't_ get along.

"Then?"

"I miss mine."

He nodded in understanding. He missed his sister on a daily basis.

"Then why don't you go and see her?"

"It's...complicated."

"Well, lucky for you, I like problem-solving. Let's start with a list of supplies. What do we need to make this trip happen?"

She thought for a minute."A full tank of gas and a shitload of courage."

Oh.

"Well, at least one of those is easy to come by. And the other one, well, you know, just be brave, remember?"

"Yeah", and she nodded as she was obviously lost in thought.

...

The bar was full, many of the students having already returned from their trips and now desperately trying to get the most out of the last 36 hours of the break by spending one last night getting wasted.

It was to be his last performance of the break. Jimmy had already talked about continuing, possibly a few night per week, and had promised him to introduce him to other local bar owners, some of them with close contacts within the record industry.

He was approaching his wildest dreams, in all aspects of his life.

She was as always mesmerized by his stage presence. His performance was nothing short of amazing. He had managed to put together several new songs that fit perfectly into his line-up and when he finished, the audience was louder than ever. She kissed him when he got off stage, having a difficult time containing herself as he was sweaty, mmmmm, both of them fully aware that she was definitely not his groupie and if a friend, a very very very close one.

She excused herself to use the restroom, having been needing to go for a while but not wanting to miss even a second of his performance.

"Don't take too long". He sounded like he was in pain from her leaving him for even a second.

"I won't", and she turned and winked at him as she walked away.

He was at the bar a few minutes later, when he felt her hands over his eyes. He turned around, his eyes still covered by her hands, as he graced her lips with his.

Weird.

It didn't feel right.

Familiar.

But not right.

He removed her hands and looked right into big, green eyes.

Shit. Shit shit shit. Fuck.

She was back.

Cassidy was back.

And he had just kissed her on the mouth.

He turned around and looked right into big, brown eyes. Hurt eyes.

Because of fucking course.

Had he really just kissed his by almost all accounts ex-girlfriend, by mistake, in front of the love of his life, who he knew was still battling demons from infidelity?

Yep. That was correct.

...

She exited the restroom, still on a high from watching him perform. He was so freaking good, she didn't even know how to calm herself down. She was drunk on life, drunk off of him.

She glanced around the area and as she spotted him by the bar, she had to do a double-take.

Nope, her eye didn't deceive her.

Someone was kissing him.

On the lips.

Someone with long, blonde hair.

She was unwillingly catapulted back in time, to a time that she didn't want to revisit, ever, because it hurt like hell and her too alert instincts were signaling flight, flight, flight.

So she did.

She ran towards her car, and for once, she was the one speeding.

He caught up with her in the parking lot, grabbing her arm and inadvertently turning her around.

"Pickle, Ally, I thought it was you, she covered my eyes..."

She nodded, but didn't know what to say as her tears were clogging her throat and soon flooding her eyes. "I..."

She was interrupted. Rudely.

"What happened?"

They both turned around, and there she was. Complication. With a confused look on her face.

None of them answered.

"Austy, what's going on?"

Holy crap, Barbie had a nickname for him. Of course she did. She had, after all, known him for years. Loved him, if not for years, at least for months. And here she was, after a mere, insignificant week, thinking that she had some type of claim on him. That he was _hers_, when in reality she didn't really even know him. They had a history together. _She_ was ruining _their_ relationship.

She had been wrong. He wasn't _her_ home. And she was now a home wrecker.

"Cassidy, you're back...early."

"If you had answered any of my messages or calls you would have known that."

Right.

"Cassie, look...we need to talk, but this, us, it's over, it's been over..."

Barbie looked like her whole world had fallen apart. "So a few weeks ago, when you told me you loved me, you didn't mean it?"

Pickle flinched. Not internally.

Oh god.

"I...I don't know, maybe in the moment I did but I'm not...I...things have changed. A lot. The temporary break is...permanent."

And with that, Barbie ran back into the bar.

He looked at her, pleadingly. "I...I need to talk to her. I owe her an explanation."

She nodded. "I get it, I...you don't owe me anything, I don't need an explanation. I...we're just friend's, right, so no need to...no worries." If she sounded half as neutral as she intended, and only half as panicked as she felt, she would consider it a success.

And then she got in her car and drove away, speedingly, as she saw the reflection of him walking back into the bar in her back mirror.

POP.

What was that loud sound?

Oh, never mind, just her bubble of bliss breaking. Just as predicted.

...

He knocked on her door, repeatedly, each bang growing more frantic as he slowly realized at she wasn't in there.

Her car was in the parking lot, the cab that had taken him back had pulled up right next to it.

She must have gone for a walk.

He found her on the park bench where they had made out a few nights ago.

He hugged her, because he needed to and because she was quietly crying.

"I really thought it was you, I had no idea she was there and I..."

She interrupted him. "I...I know. That's not what I'm upset about."

Oh.

She continued. "I can't be responsible for you breaking up with someone, I mean, I'm no better than _her_ if I allow for that to happen."

"_Her_?"

She didn't answer, just looking out over the all but still ocean.

He took a minute, trying to arrange his racing thoughts into something that made sense. How could he explain it to her?

"How do you remove band-aids?"

"What?"

"How do you remove band-aids?"

She shook her head in disbelief. What the hell was he talking about?

"Well, I, I remove them slowly, one small fraction of an inch at a time. And I handle uncomfortable situations the same way. I don't like hurting people. Cassidy and I ..I knew it was ending before I met you, I was just removing the band-aid slower, hoping to minimize her pain. And I know I should have probably just ripped it off. But you have to believe me, we would have broken up whether I had met you or not."

She was quiet for a minute. Processing. Thinking. "I don't rip them at all. I let them stay put until they fall off."

Why didn't that surprise him at all?

"That takes much longer."

"Yeah, but it's painless."

"Maybe it's time to rip it off, though, let the wounds heal, you know?" They both knew they weren't talking about him and Cassidy anymore.

She shook her head.

"Talk to me. Let me help you heal."

"I don't know if I can."

"Try."

She shook her head again, but he could have sworn that she looked less resolute.

"So he cheated on you..."

"It wasn't just that he cheated on me, I mean, it was more than that."

"What do you mean?"

She must be getting a headache from all that shaking.

"I haven't told anyone here, I mean anyone, really."

"So someone's got to be the first, right?" and he smiled.

She took a deep breath, as if she was about to dive into deep water, her eyes still focused on the ocean. Scared but determined.

"Dallas...he never really had my heart. I mean, he touched it, maybe held it, but I took it back, slightly beat up but yet intact. I think _she_ was the one who shattered it, because she lived in my heart and broke it from the inside."

And it hit him. It wasn't a _he_ that had broken her heart, it was a _she_.

"Who was she?"

"It was...it was my sister. It was my sister that he cheated on me with."

He didn't understand. Had she been in a sorority? He hadn't pinned her as a Greek life type girl.

"I'm sorry, I don't get it."

"My sister. My little sister. My best friend in the whole freaking world".

Oh.

Shit.

Her _actual_ sister. As in blood and genes and stuff.

He had never really watched any Telenovelas, but he was pretty sure shit like this was their main and recurring plot. She was living a tv soap opera. With no apparent way of turning it off.

If Dallas would have been around, he would have been in real prison. For pre-meditated murder.

She was still talking, as if she couldn't stop once she had finally started. "We were roommates, she's only a year younger than me and...well, I was stupid and dumb and too damn trusting."

He just nodded, trying to process what she was saying yet speechless, because what do you say to that?

Her tears were no longer dripping but pouring.

"He...he got her pregnant. That's when I found out. At first she told me it was some random hook-up, which I didn't really question although I thought it was weird because I never heard of anyone and we spent so much time together, but you know...She...she gave birth a few weeks ago. To my nephew. And i cant go there. I cant go home. I cant. He's a baby and I can't get over my own fucking feelings. I'm a horrible person."

He had misinterpreted her sadness as pure broken-heartenedness but there was apparently a good dose of misguided guilt in there as well.

"I..."

"Dont. Dont say anything. Please just hold me."

And he held her as she cried. Possibly for hours. Quiet, as he knew that there really wasn't anything he _could_ say.

Her thoughts were a cluttered mess, but she realized one thing. He wasn't a band-aid, but the week with him had been one. It had made her feel better, alive, but the week was gone, the band-aid was slowly falling off, and it wasn't painless as she was now bleeding again, maybe worse than before, and there was a strong possibility of some scaring. She should have known, because band-aids don't heal the wound, they just conceal the cut. And her cut was still raw. Too raw.

"Austin, I...I don't know what _this_ is."

He did. It was fucking love. Pure. Unadulterated.

She continued. "All I know is that you're probably better off without me, I'm a mess."

He was now the one doing the head shaking.

"I mean, it's been a week, it's better that we break it off now before I mess you up completely. You're going to focus on your music and..."

"No, don't do this, please don't do this, you're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"You think that now. But feelings can change, quickly. At some point, you loved Cassidy. And now you don't. Maybe someday you will again. Love is a gamble, and I don't want to bet. I don't want anyone else to live in my heart again. It's too dangerous. It can't handle any more cracking."

"Look, I don't have all the answers of life but I know I need you in mine." He didn't care about the abundance of desperation that was clearly evident in his voice.

"You don't know that. I just happened to be the first thing that you laid eyes on. Literally. I could have been anyone. I think you just needed a distraction."

Why was she not hearing him? Why couldn't she see that he was in it for the long run? If he had been the ink type guy, he would have already gotten her name tattooed in an arrowhead heart. She was already tattooed on his brain, a never fading mental tattoo of his greatest memories, and he would never contemplate laser removal. She was his long-term, his forever, he wanted her to be his last first kiss and as well as his last.

"Pickle, Ally, my everything is better with you."

She shook her head. "I'm not good for anyone."

"I'll do anything for you, Ally. _Anything_."

"Then just forget about me."

And he could see her shoulders shake from crying as she walked away, alone, while the strong wind, close to stormy, relentlessly played with her long, beautiful hair.

And despite the now loud noise of nature, he could hear his own heart crack.

...

He was in the shower, rinsing of the cold rain that had ambushed him on his way back, and for once, it was his tears blending with the shower water, as he cried for her, cried because of her, cried for himself because he wanted to be enough.

His pleasurable band-aid was gone, ripped from its placement around his heart, a big gushing wound taking its place, and his inhaler was not working correctly as it felt like he no longer knew how to breath. Each freaking breath hurt, the pain in his chest reminding him that he was alive despite feeling anything but.

It was probably the shortest relationship he had ever had. He wasn't even sure he could call it that. A week was probably considered a fling, a vacation romance.

Hopelessness filled him, as he realized that he wasn't competing against other suitors but, much worse, against invisible ghosts of the past. Ghosts who had unfairly rigged her lottery of love before he had even had the chance to buy a ticket.

He was walking around his room, aimlessly, as he couldn't sleep, because how do you go to sleep mere hours after your worst fear comes true? It wasn't that he was afraid of nightmares, they would be a joyous contrast to his current state of mind.

But there was a loud, piercing voice inside of his head.

He loved her. He fucking loved her. With her perfect imperfections. All of him loved all of her.

And he knew what he had to do.

He sat down by his desk, looking at the blank page of the notebook that she had bought for him, a page that was now a fitting description for his life, unable to write anything down, because a Sharpie may be permanent but it still can't write anything if it's broken. ...

She was in her room, hurting, hurting _everywhere_, as if the debris from the detonation of her heart was traveling through her veins, inescapably scratching her skin from the inside.

She had made the right decision.

Right?

But if so, why did it hurt so much?

Why was she breaking all over again?

She went to bed, feeling breathless because her heart wasn't working correctly, and she was suffocating from _not_ having his arm around her.

In a sense she felt free, because that's what happens when you speak the truth, but all she really wanted was to be trapped in his cage that had been her temporary home for a way too short period of time.

Her life was no longer gray, but black nothingness, and she cried herself to sleep as the hurricane winds of her mind blew hard inside her head, unintentionally mimicking the strong winds outside the window.


	10. Chapter 9 - Sunday & Superglue

**A/N; So this is it. I know it took forever to get the last chapter up, partially because I felt (and still feel) that it's a little too sappy, and partially because I'm not completely ready to say goodbye to this version of Austin and Ally.**

**I had so much fun writing this story. Please entertain me and let me know your favorite chapter, or quote, or song reference or anything else that you liked. Or didn't like. Whatever works.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and favorites and follows, you guys are truly amazing. I was unsure of what people would think of this story, and I'm so happy that at least some of you like it.**

**Oh, and this is long as heck. I don't think I have ever written a 7000 word chapter before.**

**I'm sorry. Word vomit. It's a never-ending issue.**

**Take a break in the middle or something.**

She opened her eyes, reluctantly, her vision perfect yet she couldn't see, the darkness of her life not even slightly subsiding through her few hours of painful, restless sleep.

Consuming blackness.

Not a hint of grey.

She was still blind, just not literally.

She didn't know what time it was, because her natural alarm clock was notably absent as the rain continued to pour outside the window, almost banging up against it, she was watching the resulting small rivers trickling down the glass through the broken blinds.

It made her want to cry, but she wasn't, not anymore, the dam of tears momentarily dried up but sure to be recharged shortly.

She started to think that his suggestion of hiding under the covers, for forever, wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Maybe today, she was a bear, ready for months of hibernation.

But she was missing her honey.

And the cave was too dark for her liking.

It would be better, so much better, if he had been there with her.

She missed him, her body aching for him, her head full of him.

She _really_ wanted to be _full_ of him, as her body was desperately craving the intimacy that her mind wouldn't allow.

How was it even possible to miss someone so much that you had seen 12 hours ago and just met a little more than a week ago? Like, miss with an ache so strong that it overwhelmed you? She had never before thought anything like that could be possible, at least not for her. But then again, she had never met _him_ before.

She had never let _him_ go before.

She realized that since the previous night she hadn't, not once, thought about Dallas, or her sister, or her nephew as all she could think of was Austin and that painful facial expression he had had when she had asked him to forget about her.

Oh. God.

Whirlwind romances. Intense. Fun, but short-lived.

So much fun.

But destined for failure.

Right?

She got up, head-hangingly, feeling like a puppet whose master was no longer willing to pull the strings, effortfully observing the angry sea outside the window.

She wanted to sail away on that stormy ocean in her boat of despair, until hitting the shores of the state of numbness and non-feeling, because god damn it she was feeling things and it was every bit as unpleasant as she had known, expected, and therefore had been trying to avoid.

The now large pools of rainwater in the parking lot reminded her of swimming, and swimming reminded her of him. Crap.

She exited the room and went over to the small kitchen where they had first met, pouring herself a bowl of cereal and swallowing the first few spoonfuls.

Eating cereal that she didn't have the appetite for reminded her of him. Of him eating.

And suddenly, the only appetite she had was for him. Crap.

This was impossible.

Fucking _breathing_ reminded her of him. Crap.

How had he managed to not just sneak into her life, but almost becoming it, in one measly week? Dependence was her greatest nightmare and yet, she couldn't help to think that they had been living in a dream of co-dependent bliss for the past week.

She went back to bed. Defeated. Deflated.

Back under the cover. Thinking. Remembering, her sadness slowly turning into something reminiscent of anger. He, they, had already messed her up for so long.

Too long. She didn't want to let them anymore.

They had broken, shattered, one of her dreams, but it was so incredibly unfair that they, and possibly herself, wouldn't allow her to build another one.

Her mental darkness was momentarily interrupted by the door slamming open. Wide. Loudly. Just like the person responsible for said door slamming.

Trish was back. Break was most definitely over.

"You're still in bed?" Her roommates voice was piercing her sad ears.

"Nice to see you too, Trish.". She was trying to sound sarcastic but failed and ended up sounding exactly the way she felt, namely utterly miserable, instead.

"What's wrong with you?" Trish moved to pull up the dysfunctional blinds. "It's past 9. Since when do you drag in bed? I thought that was my specialty".

It was. Trish was a master at 'accidentally' oversleeping and thereby miss class.

She didn't respond, and less than thirty seconds later she felt the cover being pulled off of her instantly too cold body. Great.

"Are you hungover?"

She shook her head. She wasn't. At least not from alcohol. She was going through withdrawal from not seeing him, though.

She gruntingly dragged herself out of bed, under the scrutinizing observation from the girl who had quickly become her closest friend.

"What happened to you?"

She looked at Trish in puzzled non-understanding.

"Ally-I-don't-know-your-middle-name Dawson, is that a tan? You went out in the sun? To the beach?"

She smiled. For the first time in what felt like forever.

"Better. I went swimming." She sat down on the nearby chair.

Trish gasped over dramatically. She tended to do that a lot.

"I can't believe it. Sounds like you had quite a week by yourself."

She blushed but didn't say anything.

"You have been by yourself, right?"

How much could she tell Trish before she would inadvertently break down into hysteric sobs?

"I might have spent some time with...someone". More like all her time.

"Who?"

"His name is...Austin." She managed to say his name with a tone of almost completely void of emotions.

"Austin? Austin...Austin Moon? My GOD, he's so hot."

"Trish, don't start."

"Don't tell me you don't think so, I mean have you seen him? Well, clearly you have..."

"Stop talking."

"So you _do_ agree."

She shook her head at her roommate's claim. She was overly confident that pretty much any female in the state of Florida would agree with her statement.

"Yes, fine, he's hot, but I mean, that's not it, he's...amazing." She wasn't entirely pleased with her choice of description. It sounded so insignificant. Too insignificant.

Trish's eyes lit up as if someone had just given her a giftcard to the overpriced animal print store in the nearby mall. Loaded with an obscene amount.

"So...you guys are..."

"Friends?" and she knew she was blushing, because Trish and Austin seemed to have something in common; they both could look right into her soul.

"Aha. So did you kiss him?"

She nodded. Trying to hide anything would be utterly pointless and quite honestly a waste of time. Trish had a built in bull-shit detector. That was one of the reasons she loved her.

"Wait a minute...you slept with him, didn't you? That's why you look so relaxed and non-uptight."

Her face answered for her by turning a shade redder. She was trying to come up with an fitting response to Trish's insulting compliment, but her roommate was apparently set on continuing to play the role of a talk-show host and complete the improvised interview.

"More than once?" Another shade added. It seemed as if she was partaking in a game of playing 50 shades of red today.

"So...how was it?"

"Trish!"

"So that good, huh..."

She didn't need to nod to confirm. Her almost purple cheeks did it for her.

"This is huge. And I'm not taking about Austin's..."

She interrupted her. She did not need to her Trish to talking about Austin's...private parts.

"I...Trish...I fell for him. Hard."

"So, huge and hard, huh?"

"TRISH"

The Latina was laughing. "So, this is not just a fling?"

"I don't know, I don't think so."

She didn't know what she had expected her roommate's reaction to be.

She definitely hadn't expected the ear piercing squealing that filled the messy room.

"Finally. I'm so happy for you, you deserve it and...wait, if you're happily in love or lust or whatever you're telling yourself that this is, why does your face look like someone hit you with a truck, then backed up and ran you over again, leaving you alive but wishing you were dead?"

"I...kind if broke it off last night."

"Sounds like the dumbest decision you have ever made."

"Thanks Trish' you're sweet."

"Sorry, it's just...you seem different. You look like shit, but it still looks like you spent the week breathing instead of holding your breath. You look, I don't know...alive."

She felt dead. At least on the inside.

She had told Trish some things about her past, not every excruciating detail but enough for her to know that her self-induced celibacy and her no-dating rules were results of painful memories that she was still working on overcoming.

"I'm kind of messed up."

Trish shook her head. "You're not nearly as messed up as you think you are. Or at least not that much more messed up than the rest of us."

She thought about it. There was some truth there.

Everyone had a past. They just varied in messiness.

She shook her head. "I just...I don't know if I can trust him. Anyone."

"Well, as I see it, you can either have people earn your trust, show you that they're worthy. Or, you can simply chose to give it to them until they prove themselves unworthy. I can't tell you what the best way is, but the second one is generally quicker. And I'm an impatient person." She shrugged.

Who would have ever thought that Trish would be the voice of reason.

Trish started unpacking before she continued the interview.

"Oh, so how was bartending?"

That freaking bar. Their drunken dancing, the first time they kissed, all the other times they kissed, how amazing it was to kiss him...

It all started at that bar, at least the physical aspects of their relationship.

Oh, how she already missed the physical aspect of their relationship. Like a lot.

She smiled. "The Bar was...good."

"You're not telling me the whole story."

"Well, I kind of performed a song there with Austin."

Her friend didn't say anything, apparently flabbergasted to the point of muteness.

She wasn't entirely sure that that had ever happened before.

A minute passed.

"YOU? _YOU_ performed a song? Like in front of people?" Trish sounded as if she was short on air.

She nodded. "Yeah. And actually, it was one of my songs."

"Wow." Still in utter disbelief.

"Yeah..."

And it hit her how much he had influenced her. It had been a race of a week, but she started to think that racing was kind of fun.

It was taking her breath away, but in a good way.

Slow was comfortable, but she was yearning for excitement.

Speed.

Movement.

She had changed. She had gone from desperately trying to forget things that she didn't want to remember to desperately trying to forget things that she wanted to remember.

The past week had been amazing, the positive newly-made memories greatly outnumbering the few heart-breaking ones.

She had spent the week living, not just being alive. And she had enjoyed it.

"Sounds like he made you move on more in one week than you or I have been able to do in months."

All she could do was nod.

"I'm off to the library, I have a paper due tomorrow."

Of course.

Trish. Queen of procrastination.

"Will you be ok?"

She knew that Trish's concern was genuine.

She nodded again.

Her friend turned around when exiting through door, as if she just realized something.

"And Ally?"

"Yeah?"

"You didn't sleep with him on my bed, did you?"

She shook her head. "Nobody will ever make me touch that cheetah."

...

He hit the sidewalk, hiding in a raincoat when things were falling apart.

He hadn't slept much, dozing of for a couple of hours in the early morning as his body finally gave in to the stubborn natural cycle that he was futilely trying to ignore.

His head was pounding, and he hadn't even dared to look at himself in the mirror.

He probably looked like shit. But it didn't matter.

He was determined.

He had things that needed to be done.

No more fear.

He had nothing to be scared of any more.

He logged the light cardboard box through the drizzling raindrops, a small suddenly non-scary umbrella protecting it from unwanted moisture.

He was ready.

It was time to close some doors.

...

As she showered, she felt her body coming alive, as if some of her dreary mood was washing down the drain and in a weird way, she realized that she almost felt better. Perhaps, the strong winds from the previous night had blown some of her shoulder-residing ghosts away.

Or maybe, just maybe, talking about the ghosts had reduced their weight substantially.

Who would have known?

Well, probably every decent therapist around.

But whatever.

It was as if the shower cleaned her eyes a bit, too, because her vision was suddenly a little less blurry.

Yes, she needed to work through some things. She knew she wanted to be alone, but with him, and she knew it made no sense and she didn't care.

Ambivalence was clearly the mood of the day.

Grey ambivalence.

And she got the sudden impulse to go and see him.

Just to check in.

She got dressed quickly and walked towards his room enthusiastically. It was as if she had acquired a balloon of hope, or maybe, courage, and said balloon was slowly inflating a bit more with each passing minute.

She sat down in the girls lounge for a few minutes before the balloon had inflated to its full capacity, then continuing her journey to his floor.

She knocked on his door, hesitantly at first but more eagerly with each bang.

It took her a minute to process that he wasn't there.

He wasn't there.

Damn it.

She walked back towards her prison cell, once again feeling a bit deflated.

She just really wanted to see him.

And then she did.

She spotted him outside through the hallway window.

He was with Barbie.

Flashbacks from the previous week instantly popped into her head.

His laugh, his magnetism...she had been drawn to him before she had even met him.

Today, however, he wasn't laughing, and his over six feet frame somehow managed to look small.

She watched as he handed the blonde a small cardboard box, most likely her belongings as she could see something resembling a rolled up poster sticking out of the top of it, as Barbie was shaking her head.

He was clearly saying goodbye to his past.

Maybe it was time for her to attempt to do the same.

The former couple outside hugged briefly, and then he walked away by himself as Barbie's shoulders were shaking from her increasingly hardening sobs.

She couldn't blame her. She had just spent the last 12 hours crying over losing the same man.

There was one major difference between them, though.

Blondie had lost him against her will.

_She_ had let him go.

Who was the stupid one now.

He walked off towards his car, getting in and driving off before she had a chance to even move from her window peeking position.

...

She returned to her own hallway, and almost tripped on a small cardboard box situated outside her door.

It was taped closed, a single word scribbled on top.

Pickle.

It was from him.

He must have dropped it off when she was in the lounge inflating her balloon.

Her emotions were running wild.

Confused. Scared. Petrified, even.

Was this her belongings? Was this his way of showing her that he was following her instructions and forgetting about her?

She almost hyperventilated. Again.

Although, come to think of it, she couldn't recall leaving anything in his possession.

Except, maybe whatever was left of her heart and the majority of her sanity.

Something told her that those things wouldn't fit into that small box, though.

She felt like a child on Christmas morning, excited yet scared that the content of the box wouldn't be what she was hoping for.

And her feelings were much further complicated by the fact that she didn't know what she was hoping for.

And then she took a deep breath and opened it.

There was a small note on top.

She unfolded it slowly, a harsh contrast to the speed of her heart.

_Ally, _

_I thought of hundreds of things that I could do to show you that **you** are wrong and that **we** are right. But in the end I realized that the decision is only yours. It's up to you to write your own life, your own future. __I can't decide what or who will be in it._

_All I can do is give you some supplies._

_I was told that this was the best brand._

_Love._

_ Always._

_- Austin_

She moved her tear-filled eyes to the content of the box.

There were a few things scattered inside of it.

A box of tubes of superglue. Most likely enough to last years, if not a lifetime.

For that broken heart of hers.

A gas card. Enough to fill up her car for a lengthy, necessary drive.

Her drive home.

A blank notebook with a pack of Sharpies. To write the next chapter.

Her future.

Mistake free or not was up to her, but the result would inescapably be permanent.

...

She decided to go for a walk, hoping that the outside air would clear out her jumbled head.

She wasn't sure of her destination.

The rain had now subsided from pouring to barely noticeable, as if the weather gods were tailoring their work of art after her haphazard mood swings.

She walked passed the parking lot and had to do a double take. Was that his car parked in the parking lot?

She had seen him drive off not long ago. She must be seeing things.

She walked closer. Nope, she was right. That was his car.

Her whole body turned floppy, like her legs were made out of the spaghetti she had made him less than a week but more than a lifetime ago.

As she walked even closer, she spotted a mess of something blond in the driver's seat,

a blotch of sunshine-colored light in her otherwise darkened world.

And suddenly she knew exactly where she was going.

He was resting his hands on the steering wheel, his head on top of his hands, moving slightly back and forth as if he was thinking or perhaps internally debating.

She knocked hesitantly on the side window and he looked up, smiling tiredly when he saw her and the sun broke through her mental clouds, almost as if he was her actual sunshine, making her happy when skies were grey.

He pointed to the passenger seat and she walked around the car, opening the door and climbing in.

"Hey". Her voice was shaking a little.

"Hey". His voice was shaking a little.

They were just looking at each other, two sets of exhausted eyes melting into each other for who knows how long.

He had taught her not to judge a book by its cover, so she was currently not judging his cover but admiring it. His hair was disshelved, his smile produced dimples clearly missing in action, and she noticed the bags under his eyes. Guilt flooded through her, as she realized that he had most likely spent the night in misery closely resembling her own.

Regardless, though, it was a perfect book cover. A visual masterpiece, even.

And yet it didn't remotely compare to the inside content.

Not even close.

He noticed that she looked like she had been crying a lot, and he felt worse than ever because for once he understood how she felt.

And he also knew, that this time around, he did have something to do with it.

Damn it.

Why couldn't she just see that they were perfect for each other?

How was he supposed to pretend that he didn't know that?

She ended the few minutes of eye-piercing silence.

"I went by your room earlier, but you weren't there."

He smiled, sadly, trying to conceal his utter happiness over the fact that she had apparently been looking for him.

"I had a few things to do."

She nodded.

She wasn't ready to talk about his box. "What are you doing here?"

He laughed but it didn't sound real. "I'm not sure. But I can tell you what I'm _not_ doing. I'm _not_ going to see my dad. _FUCK_." He slammed his hands against the steering wheel.

"I started driving there but I couldn't do it, I had to turn back around."

"How far is it?"

"It's about an hour north. For me. Probably three hours for you."

And she laughed for the first time since her old life, aka before breaking it off with him.

"You can do it."

He shook his head as he turned to look at her.

"No, I really don't think so."

"Yes, you can."

"I need you, Pickle. There's no way I can make it without you. I can't do it without you."

He meant in life but let her believe that he meant the drive to his father's house.

His sincerity made her heart sing and cry at the same time.

He needed her for a change.

"Then I'm coming with you." She shrugged as if saying that it was no big deal.

But they both knew it was.

And he didn't even question her before he had started the car and pulled out of the full parking lot.

They drove in silence, because although he had a million and one things to say, none of his thoughts were currently materializing into actual words. He didn't allow his mind's constant questioning of what this meant for them to dampen his utter joy of having her with him. She suddenly reached and turned up the radio, shaking her head in beat to the music. And he smiled again, because she was adorable and sad but adorable and he wanted to hug her and squeeze her and kiss her and make love to her, but if none of that was possible, he would settle for just _being_ with her. Around her.

...

His house was huge, almost intimidatingly so. She hadn't pictured it and she quickly realized that his father was unquestionably a wealthy man.

She didn't know why that surprised her so much, possibly because the stereotype she had of rich people was one of being stuck-up or rude, and well, Austin was anything but.

_Don't judge a book by its cover._

Right.

They approached the huge wooden entrance doors, and he stalled.

"You're nervous". She wasn't asking.

He nodded. "My dad is used to getting what he wants."

She grabbed his hand, and he looked at her in surprise over the sudden and obviously unexpected body contact. His eyes met hers, and whatever he saw in there clearly changed his mood as he gave her a small smile before they approached the door.

His mother opened, extending her hand with a warm smile on her face.

"Mom, this is my friend Pi...Ally. This is m... Ally."

He knew he had already given it away. His mother was very perceptive. She already knew he was deeply in love with his friend, her delighted smile giving away her train of thoughts.

"Ally, this is my mom."

"Nice to meet you Mrs. Moon."

"Ally, I've heard so much about you. And please call me Mimi".

He was confused for a second as he hadn't told his mom anything about Pickle. Yet.

Anna.

Right.

He should have known that his sister would engage in her signature blabber-mouthing.

His dad joined them from upstairs, introducing himself and she had a difficult time seeing where Austin's apparent intimidation was coming from. His dad reminded her of a teddy bear. Well, maybe not a regular one, perhaps more like one that had a hidden camera inside or something.

Sweet but observant.

"Dad, I...we need to talk." She could tell that he was still nervous.

His dad smiled at both of them.

"Son, you brought company and we're going to have a nice lunch. We can talk afterwards."

Lunch was served and the conversation was light, easy-going, touching upon school and sports and they made her feel right at home.

She really liked his parents.

She noticed that she caught his eyes from across the table more often then not throughout the lunch, and she noticed that his parents noticed too.

Once the food was finished, Austin excused himself as he followed his dad upstairs, and within minutes she could hear their voices gradually increasing from a low murmur to almost outright shouting.

She looked around nervously, not sure of what to do.

It was as if Mimi could sense her anxiety as she quietly began speaking.

"My son is an amazing person. I know I'm his mother, and I know I'm supposed to think so, but I also know that you happen to agree with me. He's determined, once he has set his eyes on something he doesn't give up. I'm pretty sure that's exactly what's going on up there right now. Don't worry. There is nothing in this life that my husband loves more than his children. He will come around. I think one of the reasons Austin is successful at almost anything he does is because he is truly his father's son. But he's also a dreamer, and I think that what sets him apart is his determination to chase his dreams. Sometimes the dreams work out, and sometimes they don't, but as I see it, you have to have dreams because without them you're nothing but a shell."

She nodded in almost stunned agreement. It was easy to see why Austin was such an amazing person. She sometimes questioned the old "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree", but in this case it made sense.

He was surely a grade A apple from a beautiful tree.

"And Ally, I'm also pretty sure he has his eyes set on you."

Her cheeks were burning.

"I don't know, it's complicated, there's some...I have some...history...to work through ..."

Mimi nodded in understanding. "I understand. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Life isn't a fairy tale. Just promise me that you don't let your...history...define you, don't let it become who you are. It's very clear to me that my son cares a lot about you."

Austin entered, interrupting their conversation, figurative smoke coming out of his nose and she realized it was time to go.

Clearly, so did his mother as she stood and embraced her.

"Ally, it was so nice to meet you. I hope, I know, that we will see a lot more of each other."

And they hugged tightly before she followed him outside.

They got in the car and started driving, and she could tell that he was still fuming.

"Do you regret going?"

He was quiet for a few minutes.

"No. It was a band-aid that needed to be ripped."

"Any bleeding?"

Lots, but all of it caused by her. His wound was healing a little as he was spending time with her, but he knew the newly formed scab would be pulled away once he had to say bye to her again.

"No. Just a slight rash. I'll be ok."

They drove the rest of the way back in semi-comfortable silence, making the return drive a bit faster, possibly because he was taking out his frustrations on the gas pedal.

They approached campus and she felt that she had to say something.

"Your dad loves you a lot, you know."

"I know."

"I'm so glad you did it. I'm..I'm proud of you."

"Me too." And he smiled.

It took him a few minutes before he found parking outside the dorm, and then they walked towards the dorm together.

She was proud of him. He was chasing his dreams. And for some reason, as they hugged goodbye in the lobby, she knew, just knew, that one day, whether it was soon or after years of hard work, he was going to make it.

Big.

"Ally, thank you for coming with me...I...couldn't have done it without you." His voice was a goosebump-creating whisper in her ear.

She wanted to stay in his arms for the rest of the day and into forever.

"I got the box. I...thank you, it was amazing and I..."

Her voice broke off and he didn't know what to say because he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to live and he knew he wasn't allowed to and it killed him.

"Thank you, I see you around." And he let go of her and turned to leave because he had to .

"Austin..." She wasn't sure of what she wanted to say. "Don't be a stranger, ok?"

He looked at her as he smiled, sadly. "I wasn't planning on it..." and the low noise of his shoes walking away from her sounded like the ending soundtrack of a sad movie that she had no interest in watching.

She wanted a happy ending, damn it.

In more ways than one.

...

As she walked towards the cafeteria with Trish in the late afternoon, she couldn't help but acknowledge the pain in her left chest region as she recalled how they had agreed to go there together.

She sighed, loudly, unintentionally so, and Trish looked at her with an expression that she was all too familiar with. Her roommate didn't need to speak to tell her that she only had herself to blame for her current state of mind. If she would translate Trish's stare into one sentence it would be "You're a fucking idiot."

As if she didn't know that already.

She spotted him from across the dining hall and she couldn't tear her eyes away from him. He was with some of the other basketball players.

They settled on a table not too far away and Trish went to get some food as she stayed put, suddenly not hungry. Trish returned with a tray of food, shaking her head.

"Are you going to stop eye fucking him anytime soon or do I have to move to another table? I'm losing my appetite."

"Fine. I'm going to get something to eat."

Trish's bluntness really shouldn't surprise or embarrass her anymore.

She viewed the food selection with the excitement of someone picking out an outfit for a funeral.

Why had she missed the cafeteria again?

She served herself some salad and when she turned around, she ran into him. Literally. He knocked over her tray, the salad dressing hitting her shirt and neck, and she knew she probably looked like the mess she was.

She couldn't do anything but laugh and his heart healed and broke at the same time, because her laughing was the only thing he wanted in life, but seeing her do it made him miss her even more.

They were close, face to chest. She had never felt smaller in her entire life.

Her whole body responded to his presence, her heart hammering, her legs jellying, her head spinning, her breath shortening.

She had been nervous from afar. Now he was here, right in front of her, six feet of heaven about six inches away, and she might as well be buried six feet under.

He wanted to lick the dressing off of her neck, he could feel his taste buds come alive, not from the thought of the taste of the dressing itself, but from the thought of the taste of her skin.

"Sorry. I just wanted to say hi." His smile was a lot less sad than earlier.

It was almost back to being contagious.

"Hi". And she knew her smile was void of sadness as well.

The dressing was dripping down her neck.

"Im sorry, but I think I have to go back and change."

"Can I walk with you?" He knew he sounded too eager but he didn't care.

His already fragile heart was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode if she declined.

But she didn't, she nodded shyly.

The sunshine was hitting their faces as they strolled back towards the dorm.

He had to fight the urge to hold her hand. Multiple times.

She really wished he would hold her hand.

And there, on the small pathway with the sunshine almost blinding her, she started to see things more clearly than she had in a long time.

He wasn't her savior, no hero, he was human, flesh and blood. He wasn't necessary for her to breath, she didn't need him.

He wasn't her air, not a band-aid, no crutch.

He was her glasses, making her see things more clearly.

She could and would function without him.

But her vision would be blurry and she simply wouldn't enjoy the view as much.

Without him, she was alive, healthy, but half-blind. Half-living.

And suddenly, her hindsight was 20/20.

She loved him.

It had been fast, but then again, she had always heard that you fall in love when you least expect it. And she clearly had not expected to spend her non-thinking, solitary break falling in love.

What was that saying? Right, life is what happens while you are busy making other plans. Or rather, in her case, busy making non-plans.

He walked her to her door and he once again leaned in, as he had done a few days prior, maybe out of habit or possibly out of wishful thinking, then pulled away when realizing what he was doing.

She didn't hesitate but pulled him in, urgently, grabbing his plaid shirt by fistfuls and slamming her mouth against his, his tongue soon in her mouth and her back pressed into her wooden door. The kiss was nowhere near as sweet as she had envisioned it and her body was responding accordingly, almost as if his tongue in her mouth created a secret shortcut to her...private parts, opening the in his presence barely kept together floodgates.

He let his tongue run against her neck, cleaning her from the drops of dressing, and despite him cleaning her up, she couldn't recall a time when she had felt dirtier.

Was that her moaning?

A familiar, loud clear-throating shortened what surely would have been a lengthy make-out session.

"I'm sorry for interrupting whatever...this is. Truly. That was...gross."

He broke away, reluctantly, and he didn't even look the slightest bit ashamed.

She was pretty sure she did, though.

"Trish, this is Austin."

"Austin, this is Trish."

They shook hands before he said an awkward goodbye and turned around, starting to walk towards his room.

She entered her room with Trish trailing closely behind.

"So I see that you changed your mind." Trish's voice was both teasing and amused.

She sighed. "I don't think I can stay away from him."

"I don't blame you. And I don't know why you feel you should."

Funny, she couldn't recall either.

And then she opened the door, running after him down the hallway, catching up to him as he was about to climb the stairway.

She was panting. She was not a runner.

They just looked at each other for a few seconds and she almost forgot why she had chased him down as all she really wanted to do was to continue their make-out session.

"How about that date?" She was still breathing heavily but she wasn't entirely sure that it was just from running anymore.

"Really?" Contagious smile.

"Really."

"Dinner?" and she nodded.

...

He couldn't remember a time that he had been more nervous. Or excited.

Small fireballs of anxious excitement were shooting through his system.

Rapidly.

This was to be his biggest show to date, and the most challenging one, as he was performing in front of a large audience of one, his toughest critique, and all he could do was to hope that she would like it, like him, enough to stick around for a few more performances.

They met outside the lobby and he couldn't for the life of him process what she was wearing because all he could think of was that he was finally taking her out on a real date.

They walked towards his car when she suddenly stopped.

"Are you hungry?"

He shook her head. "Not really. You?"

"No. You want to do something else?"

He nodded. "Let's go for a walk?"

They moved towards the empty beach, the absence of words saying everything that needed to be said.

It had turned into a beautiful evening, the sunset painting the sky in half of the rainbow.

They settled on the rocks where she had been writing a few days earlier and she realized that he was holding something.

"I brought you this" and he handed her the notebook that she had gotten for him.

"I want you to read it. I got to read yours, it's only fair."

She flipped through the pages. The book was nearly full.

"You wrote all of this in the last few days?"

He nodded. "I've been oddly inspired as of late."

She knew the feeling.

She started to read and she was blown away.

He was a much more talented song writer than he gave himself credit for.

"Austin, this is amazing."

"That one is about you. Well, they all are."

She stared at him in disbelief. "About me? But I'm nothing, I..."

He interrupted her, almost angrily. "You may think you're nothing but to me you're everything. I'd do anything for you. I'll jump of a fucking bridge with you if you ask me too, but the one thing I won't do, I can't do, is push you into the water."

She swallowed hard as she understood what he meant.

She reached for something in her purse. "Actually, I have something for you too" and she handed him a small tube.

Oh God.

Was she planning in breaking it off, completely? Must be, or why else would she give him symbolic, heart-repairing superglue?

Fuck. How could he have misread her like that? He could have sworn that she was well on her way to changing her mind and...

"Austin, I...I...think I'm ready to dive in from that bridge, head first, I trust you not to let me end up with a head injury."

He just stared at her. What was she saying?

She continued. "Next time I get scared, next time I make irrational decisions, just use this and glue yourself to me. Don't let me go."

He handed it back in a heartbeat. "I don't need it. Im already stuck on you. Like glue."

And the kiss on the beach with a sunset backdrop may be cliche, but that didn't make it any less perfect.

She was still scared. And scarred. And she was still bleeding a little.

But she wanted him. Oh, she _wanted_ him.

She wasn't yet exactly sure of _what_ she was wanted to put in her own, new notebook. But she knew exactly _who_ she wanted to put in there.

They strolled back, hand-holdingly, nervously stalling in the lobby as neither of them wanted to let go of each other.

"Can I kiss you goodbye?" He sounded hopeful and she shook her head.

"I'm not ready for that".

He laughed as he understood what she meant. "Fine, can I kiss you hello?" and she nodded vigorously as his lips met hers.

She broke away. "Is your weird roommate back?"

He shook his head. "Not until tomorrow, he has a policy of always skipping the first day of classes. After any break."

She smiled and he realized why she had asked. "Do you...do you want to stay with me tonight? I just want to hold you."

"That's sweet. But I don't want you to just hold me."

And as they made their way to his room there was no more talking.

And once they got to his room, there was no more talking either.

There was just him, and her, and nakedness and kissing and touching and mind-blowing togetherness. The sex was both urgent and sweet, as if his dick suffered from multiple personality disorder and couldn't make up its mind whether he wanted to make sweet love to her or passionately fuck her hard into the morning.

Perhaps it was make-up sex, or maybe reunited after break-up sex, or maybe I love you sex, but most likely it was a combination of it all.

They laid there in each other's arms afterwards, content, happy, complete.

And when he was sure that she was still wide awake, he whispered a loud "I love you" into her ear, because he was tired of relaying on the universe and was now taking matters into his own hands. Yes, it was probably still too early. And no, he didn't care, because it was the ultimate truth and he had vowed to always be honest with her.

She turned to face him, the outside full moon reflecting in her soul-deep eyes and without hesitation, she returned his words to him, because in that moment, she was unsure of whether he was a cage or a house or, perhaps yet again, a tower, but couldn't care less because the one thing she was sure of was that her heart was his newfound residence, and his heart was, without a question, her home.

**Epilogue: Monday & Mornings**

The knock on the door was loud and urgent.

She opened, flustered, immediately being pulled into a kiss that she hadn't expected but truly didn't mind.

"I've missed you." He sounded as if she hadn't seen her forever.

"I just left you room like five minutes ago." She couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, that's like four and a half minutes too long."

"You're a dork" and she kissed him again, knowing that the break may be over but they were anything but.

"Ready for class?" and she nodded.

They walked past the parking lot, now completely full.

"Pickle?" He sounded mischievous.

Fuck. She still hadn't found a nickname for him that would stick.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have anything important to do today?"

"You mean other than attend the classes that I'm paying an arm and a leg for?"

"Yeah"

"Nope"

"Want to go for a ride? A day-trip? Use that gas card?"

She swallowed hard as there was no questioning his intended destination.

She wasn't ready. And if it was up to her, she may never be.

But with him by her side, she could do anything.

She nodded, hesitantly, heart-in-her-throatily, but a nod all the same.

They walked towards her car, hand in hand, heart in heart, her smiling because she was finally brave.

And as the majority of the student body reported back to class after the break, the future Mrs. Moon and her knight in Sun-shining armor drove off to unitedly confront the last of the lingering ghosts from her messy past.

It was time to finally take care of that long overdue Spring cleaning.

_**My next multi-chapter will be up shortly. It's called "The Nanny" and if you're interested in reading it, keep an eye open or follow me on twitter fridaf1206.**_


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